The Consequences of Revelry

Last night was exceptionally fun, this morning was not. I’m never drinking again.

Class didn’t start till 1:00 but for some reason I woke up at 8:00. I spent the next several hours cursing the day of my birth and looking for a comfortable place to die. I tried the bathtub, couch, kitchen floor, bathroom floor but nothing came remotely close to working.

At about 11 or so there was a knock on my door. I wrapped a towel around my naked, lifeless body only to see an exceptionally chipper Thomas standing there with a bottle of laundry detergent.

Thomas: Hey. . .what’s going on?
Me: What the hell are you doing? Why are you here?
Thomas: Just doing some laundry over there and figured I’d check on you.
Me: I think I’m dying.
Thomas: Have you tried sleeping in the closet. I used to do that in undergrad and it works. It’s totally dark and generally quite relaxing.
Me: I’m willing to try anything.

Thomas left and I went to sleep in the closet.

20 minutes later there was another knock on the door which was apparently slightly ajar. I assumed it was Thomas back for more:

Voice: Hello?
Me: (shouting) I’m in the closet
Voice: (calmly) Are you ok?
Me: (shouting) No I’m not fucking ok. If I was ok, why the fuck would I be lying in a closet?
Voice: (calmly) Do you need help?
Me: (shouting) Yes I need help . . . I’m dying.
Voice: (less calmly) Hold on.

My closet door swung open and there I was, lying in my closet wrapped in a towel, looking up at my friendly FedEx deliveryman.

After a several rather awkward apologies, I walked to the front door, signed for my package and sent him on his way.

My first final is only two weeks and three days away. It’s time to hang up the drinking boots and put on the thinking cap.