I'd like nothing more than to make you jealous that you're at work while I'm still in my pyjamas, on holiday. But my white wine hangover prohibits me from doing such. It's grotesque. And if I wasn't feeling ill enough, The Travelling Companion woke me up and said, "Drink this. It doesn't taste bad but drink it quickly."
I'm a good girl. Sometimes, stupidly, I do as I'm told especially when I think that the glass thrust into my hand may contain some miracle hangover cure. Actually, the contents of the glass was liquid. And I needed hydration, huge style. My body lacked water such that the blood in my veins was powder.
And so I downed it. Error. Grave. It was Aloe Vera juice. (Why??). Every ounce of aloe flavour grabbed hold of other flavourants within the mouth (stale white wine, too many ciggies, general badness). I preferred the original taste.
I've brushed my teeth twice, had two cups of tea and eaten two slices of toast with scrambled eggs atop and, guess what?, the aloe flavour reigns. I'm contemplating tongue transplant.
But the hangover is gone. So maybe you should be jealous. We're off to do some shopping, perhaps a spot of lunch (no tolerance for white wine. Not for another six months to two years), and then we're topping up tans. And perhaps, because we can, an afternoon nap. All the kiff stuff. That's what life is all about. Radness.
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