Personal truth 5: 13shots+beer+Irish Car Bomb+ Dirty Girl Scout does not = Sober by 7,8,9 or 10

I'm sober.

This was my first clear thought upon waking in Madison, Wisconsin on Friday October 5th at 10am in the bed of my best friend.  I congratulate  myself on my excellent application of acupressure points to discourage hangover and nausea while imbibing enough water to maintain hydration.  A fact I was assured about because it was my bladder which roused me from my rest. 

It was a battle drinking that water. I had to give my self a pep before every swallow.   I had consumed so much alcohol during the previous night and wee hours of the morning that my body was closing itself down to liquid intake as a self defense.    But past is past.  It's 10am Liza's at her nail appointment.  She has mercifully left me to my snoring.   I've had some great dead as the grave sleep and now it is a new day. I have cheated the hangover gods who hold court over a porcelain throne and life is fucking beautiful.

I swing my legs off of the bed and push myself properly into this "new day". 
What actually happened is as follows:

My knees straighten but my back locks forcing my upper body to align parallel to the floor.  This  is inconvenient since it is spinning and bucking a little.  I start to feel like a sloshed floozy ridding the mechanical bull at some cowboy bar and grill though no where near as sexy when the weight of my ungodly heavy  head forces me to veer into the direction of the open closet.

I'm freaking out now trying to correct my flight path but the closet seems to have the magnetic pull of a fricking black hole.  I do not want to fall into it because I fear I may not be able to crawl out.  I can feel myself tumbling.  All slow, tragic, and dramatic like.  Just knowing Liza gonna be pissed to come home and find her maid of honor concussed or drooling in her nice new satin white pumps.   Or worse I end up impaled on some forgotten pair of scissors or plastic bit that has been waiting three months for me to land on it in all the wrong ways.

I'm going to die....

she'll never forgive me.

And just as I am about to lose my pathetic little battle with the most basic of the laws of physics.  I hear a voice coming from what I think is the direction of the doorway.

"Are you okay?"
"I'm not sure."
"Do you need any help?"
"I'm not sure."

I can tell its Laurie.  I want her to keep talking because at this point I'm using her voice for a homing device.  The floor is now heaving a little more and I dare not raise my head to see what the hell rest of the room is up to. An eternity and 6 to 7 paces later I can see the feet of the dresser and Laurie's toes.

"Are you sure you don't need any help?"
I mumble something that I am sure made sense at the time but I can not at this moment remember.

And she laughs.  It's like bells… angel bells.  As a matter of fact it's the most beautiful sound I have heard in my life. "Laurie, Laurie, Laurie"  I say over and over again with a giggle… such a beautiful name… soothing even.  I'm not sure if I'm saying it out loud though.  But I am sure that it is a wonderful name.  Why didn't my mom name me Laurie?  I force myself to stand a little straighter so I can look at her… or maybe I just lift my head.  She's so pretty… just as pretty as her name.  What a pretty day, what a beautiful world and all of a sudden I am so overcome with emotion that I want to cry. And that is when I have my second totally clear thought of the day.

"Laurie… I'm not sober"
"Of course your not!"
"But Laurie  why am I not sober."
"Did you think just because you went to sleep that you would wake up sober."

At this point I do really want to cry because I feel as if I was the only one left out on that little bit of common knowledge.  My beautiful day down shifts to one full of the unfair things of life and I am seriously considering asking Laurie to hold me as a crumple into a  heap on the floor. 

But I can't do that because I really have to pee.

 
Anyway
You learn something new everyday.

 

P.s. luv you Laurie!!!!