Ugh!
My eyes have a hard time opening; the sleep has crusted over my lids. I squish my face; and very carefully crack open one eye, then the other.
Need water.
I turn to my left to make sure no one else is passed out in the bed with me.
That's a good girl...
I sit up, and am immediately slammed in the face with nausea. I slowly stand and try not to walk faster than what my hangover can handle. I can hear people talking downstairs, and so I slowly and carefully head towards them.
Walking down the steps is painful. My bones are hungover as well.
"Good morning," says Linda. She's standing at the kitchen counter drinking a cup of coffee. When I reach the bottom of the steps I see the remnants of last night; take-out trays litter the living room and kitchen, and Ralph is passed out face first on one of the couches.
At least he doesn't snore.
"Wasn't last night fun?" says Linda who is a little too perky considering the amount of alcohol we consumed last night.
"What I remember of it," I say and slide onto a stool across from her as she pours me a cup of coffee.
"I had the best time! I haven't danced that much in years," she says and starts to drift off into memories of the night before.
I smile at her. Dancing is fun. Everyone should dance at least once a week. It's good for the soul.
"Yeah, it's been a while for me too." I tell her and then look over to see Sleeping Beauty awake from his coma. His hair pokes out in all directions from being mashed into the couch.
It's...endearing.
"Coffee?" I ask as Linda starts to pour him a cup. He doesn't speak but simply gestures with his hand for someone to hand the cup to him.
I grab water bottles from the fridge for all of us, and then sit back where I was to wait for the nausea to pass.
Eventually, he speaks.
"I am sooo hurting right now," he says barely above a whisper.
Linda laughs, and then shows me a goodbye note from Aunt Nancy that was left on the kitchen counter. It says she'll be back in a few weeks. For me to have fun,
"...and whatever you do, don't burn the place down! Love Aunt Nancy," I read out loud to the others.
Got it. Don't burn the place down. Easy enough.
"So, what do you guys wanna do today?" says a very chipper Linda. I wish she would use some of her energy to start making us some breakfast.
"This," I tell her and try to balance myself so that I can control the nausea. "I'm too hungover to think about moving from this spot at the moment."
"Me too," pipes Prince Charming.
"We're all hungover," says Linda as she rifles through the fridge looking for eggs.
"You should put that in your dissertation," I tell her trying to be a smart ass at her very blatant observation.
"I have," she says and gets all excited.
Huh? Is this some sort of joke volleyed back at me that I'm too hungover to understand?
"That's actually a really good analogy," she says and cracks an egg. A moment later she's frying them up, and the smell seems to nullify my nausea.
"Linda's writing a PhD on Mysticism," I tell Ralph, who simply nods. He doesn't care.
"We're all hungover," she says proudly. "That is so succinct, it's perfect."
I look at her and try to make sense of what she's talking about, but can't.
"What the hell are you talking about?" I say. I don't have enough brain cells left after last night to wade through this conversation.
"We're all hungover! It's the perfect analogy. Everyone who is spiritually lost, or unhappy, or living a secular life is hungover. The path to enlightenment, is a sober state of mind -- operating at its optimal spiritual capacity. It makes perfect sense. Until we connect with the truth of who we are, we are actually living as hungover zombies walking around this Earth."
She gets all giddy as she starts to flip the eggs and make the toast.
"Linda, this conversation is too intelligent for my brain right now." I tell her. She laughs and hands me my eggs. I'm glad that she's had an epiphany, but for right now -- all I really care about it putting food in my stomach to absorb the rest of the alcohol.
"Sure," she says. Her feelings aren't hurt. But, I think it is kinda interesting that she is more enlightened about spiritual purpose than Ralph and I, and she seems to be less hungover.
In any case, I don't have the mental energy to explore that train of thought. I'll think about that later after a day of sleeping on the couch and watching movies.
"Thank you," I say to Linda as Ralph and I both grab our plates.
"No problem," she says with a big smile. "Why should you suffer any more than you already have?"
And with that, we make our way to the couches, and assume our hungover stations for the day.
