the ocean

Do you ever have one of those mornings after drinking where you are filled with deep regret and fear and you know not why? I'm not talking about mornings where you repeatedly empty the contents of your stomach -- which may well be bright pink and gelatinous -- into the nearest receptacle, although of course I've had those too. I'm referring to the mornings where you don't quite recall all of your actions from the previous night and become overwhelmed with the sense that you may have done something horrible. Like, for instance, tell your friends the truth about what you think of their bangs, or leave a two liter of Diet Mountain Dew in their crop top closet. Not that I've done either of these things, but I did throw up on a girl once and not remember it until two days later. In my defense, I had mixed gin and vodka. Like, in the same drink.

Anyway, I had one of those recently, and while it turned out that everything was fine and I didn't do anything untoward, it made me realize that I'm way too old for that shit. I should be, like, waking up and realizing I enrolled in the AARP or something. But as long as the Zima reissue lasts, I'm likely to find myself in this state from time to time. So somebody please stop me from peeing in the kitchen sink.