It's 5:20 am on Labor Day and I'm curled up on my couch, grateful to TBS for airing Dawson's Creek at this ungodly hour. I'm fully aware I actually have the day off. Nevertheless, I've been up since 3:30.
The problem is, in my revelry of realizing I had a long weekend, last night at dinner I decided to bust out the wine. As such, I awoke at 3:30 completely dehydrated and incapable of getting back to sleep. I'm devastated, as I had hoped too much wine was the key to me sleeping past 9 am. Sigh.
I rarely drink anymore, and it's something that actually pleases me. I just don't need it, and enjoy that it's an occasional treat, but overall I'll take a Coke Zero any day with any meal. I realize this makes me less sophisticated, particularly to my friends and former roommates for whom wine was a daily event, but I'm ok with that. I've long grown out of the phase of considering it a required component of fun (actually I NEVER experienced that stage of life) and, in all frankness, I have too weak a stomach to enjoy indulging in it. In fact, I recently botched a good friend's visit to town by mistakenly trying to keep up with his margarita intake. I can't say we got caught up on too much as I got sick in the bathroom of the bar. Classy, no?
So, alas, I'm punished for indulgence once more, and hopeful that the sleep gods will smile upon me before the sun rises. There is really nothing worse than being robbed of holiday weekend slumber.
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Yeah. On the morning after bottle-of-wine night, I woke up (for the fourth and final time) at 7:50 am. The following night, I had the audacity to have two whole beers, and I was up (again, for the fourth and final time) at 8:20 the next morning. So I totally feel your pain. Although, thanks to a mutual former alcoholic roommate, I can still drink margaritas all night long without getting sick.
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