Where was I? Oh yeah.
I’ve definitely done something stupid.
Not the first time in my life I had that thought. Not the last either.
What was my plan? I tried to ignore the little tiny flashing green light. But how could I? There it was still blinking at me as if to say, “look at me, check me, there’s stuff here for you, look at it. Look at it. Look at it. LOOK AT IT. Seriously guy? Just look at it. I mean I’m blinking here dude. BLINKING. Figure it out.”
But since I was actively trying not to figure out this particular puzzle I ignored the phone. I tried to sleep some more. When that wouldn’t work I was able to drag myself out of my queen sized bed and onto the floor. Once that transition had been made it was smooth sailing to crawl over towards the couch. The couch would be my basecamp for the day. If I never acclimatized then I could just stay there overnight. But if fortune favoured me maybe I could attempt a summit, as in standing up, before night fall.
I knew it was blinking but I still ignored it. Hours passed. And then a breakthrough. I was up to one knee. Like a baby deer learning to walk I tentatively climbed to my feet and took a step. Not bad. Sure, the room IS spinning. And I am moments away from throwing up all over the place but on the plus side walking is definitely a possibility at some point in the near future.
Why did I throw up so much? One previous New Year’s I threw up all over the floor at a friend’s house because I was too drunk to move. At some point in the wee hours my friend Steve moved. He had been sleeping on the other sofa in the basement. This was my moment. I snuck across and plunked myself down where Steve had been sleeping and far away from my vomit drying nicely on the floor.
That’s it! I’m out of this one. Poor Steve will take the fall and no one will be any wiser. I’m basically an evil genius. It might be time to start planning heists. Fort Knox? Nah, too easy.
My joy was short lived however as a fatal flaw exposed me the next morning. There was dried puke on my face, hands and shirt. Tough to blame Steve for that!
The afternoon of the blinking phone though I was determined. Determined to get to the bathroom. Throw up. Long hot shower. Some water. Advil. Maybe some food. Repeat the process and see if I couldn’t salvage the last few hours of the day.
In the shower I tried to remember some details. Through the dense fog, inside an already dense head, I kind of thought maybe I had walked somewhere really far. There was a series of phone conversations but to whom and about what? That information was stored in Fawlty Towers. Sorry. Faulty files.
Here’s what I could figure at that point. I had walked somewhere pretty far and I spoke (let’s be honest I am sure I slurred) on the phone. That was all I could come up with about the night of December 18th.
From the shower it was over to the kitchen (I lived with people but who could be bothered putting on clothes as a time like this?) for the water, advil, breakfast based food triumvirate of anti-hangoverness and then back to bed to Netflix and Chill with myself and my friend shame. Self-loathing might join us later for a real sexy threeway.
The blinking. SHHHHIIIIIIIIIIT. Shit. Shit. Shit. I’m never checking that phone. Never. Mark my words universe. I’ve made a pact with myself. An unbreakable pact. A blood oath sworn with my own brain. Punishable with at least mild amounts of self-admonishment.
It was a few hours later that I couldn’t hold out anymore. I had to look at the phone. I had to end the blinking madness. I don’t even really know what trepidation means but I am sure that’s what I felt as I reached for the phone.
What a messed up feeling it is when you are sure that you did something awful but you don’t know what it is yet you have a device in your hand which is about to tell you. Such a futuristic way to panic. I felt VERY modern. Postmodern even?
The screen lit up as I hit the home key. 3 messages. An email. A missed call. Okay. That’s not too bad.
Messages: (with my thoughts in italics)
Where you at? – Steve. Hell.
You okay? – my mom (she’s simply the best). Nope probably not.
How drunk were you last night? – random number. The drunkest. As fucking usual.
Then I noticed something that made my head hurt even more. And my soul. And my whole body. And yeah.
Oh good. I texted basically every woman in my phone asking if they wanted to have sex with me. That’s literally the kind of person I want to be. I thought with an eye roll. So it was on the verge of tears of shame that I turned to the missed call.
5 Missed calls. All from the same person.