The Drinking Blues

Being hung-over at work, not fun. Now I’m dealin’ w/ the day-after-depression. Thoughts spinning in my head, what did I say, who did I see, who saw me? Not that I was overly wasted, just regularly wasted on Margaritas this time. They just taste so good. And there you are eating chimichangas with shredded chicken and before you know it, you and friend finished off a pitcher or two. You hadn’t even meant to go out… you just wanted some food.

Naturally, the drunk dialing tendencies kicked in around 10pm, yes, I was drunk early. I called The Brother, begged him to come over. He conceded. He asked me if I had matches and then disappeared into the bathroom. When he came back, I was passed out. I vaguely remember my sweet man putting the covers over me and crawling into bed next to me. Fuck, do I adore that man. I hope he crawls into bed next to me for a very very long time.

But today, my stomach hurts, my mood is tired and all you can see on my face are the bags under my eyes. Oh the drunky blues… I should write a country song.