Too much to drink, and the worst hangover in years. That pretty much sums up my Saturday. Have arisen in the last few minutes, to grab more headache tablets, and decamp downstairs to the sofa to watch telly and start to shake off the hangover from Hell.
I've little recollection of events beyond the first tequlia slammer. Although I do remember thinking, at the time, salt and lime on top of everything else I'd had, wasn't the most sensible of things to be doing. How I got home, I don't know. And what time I left, is a mystery. I've a number of missed calls, and my mobile appears to have found it's way under the bed?
[UPDATE] Apparently I was completely uncomprehensible. Which worries me, because that means I must've walked, since getting a taxi would've required me to communicate. Which, apparently, I was very much unable to do by then!
