April 10th, 2010.

I'm hungover, remembering the delicious stouts that staggered me home, where I passed out, hot plate on high, having had drunken cooking intentions.
Four hours of element heat fill the room and I wake up groggy and pathetically fully clothed.
Too much, too far I've gone this time.
Ginger for the gut, flick off the heat, slip into nothing and pass out.
I wake up stoked on a shower, but they're tinkering with the sink I'll never admit to having ripped off the wall.
The sun slices through the cool air and I listen to Shaun and Allan jam, a recording of a beauty of an afternoon back sometime.