The Price of a Good Time

The good news is I still have a headache today.

Why is that good news? No reason really except that it makes my conscience feel a little better.

Let me take you back to the beginning. I know I haven't been blogging lately and I really do have this goal to put up a post a week. But finding the physical time to even have two thoughts coalesce into anything resembling a post has been tricky.

I have a lot on my plate and recently added more things and jobs and titles and responsibilities. Because obviously, I'm a masochist. And a completely unrealistic optimist who thinks there are enough hours in the day to get everything done (there isn't).

And every once in a while I have an opportunity to go out and kick up my heels and give myself a night off. This miraculous event happened two nights ago. Roller derby practice got canceled and my teammates decided we were forgoing the physical exercise and we were going out for the night. 

I'll let you in on a secret: I like drinking. I'm a little worried that makes me sound like I have a problem so let me break it down. I like the social aspect of cooling my heels and having a couple of drinks. I like the slight buzz and the way my mind becomes singularly focused on being in the moment. I'm not thinking about bills and schedules and deadlines and to do lists. I'm thinking about the person standing in front of me that I'm conversing with. I'm thinking about the music playing. I'm thinking about all the love I have for all the people I'm sharing my night with.

It's not so different from the adrenaline rush I get on game day. Or when I slip into the writing zone and pound out a bunch of words on a new story. Anything that can take me away from the day to day minutia where I'm teetering on the edge of panic of not getting everything done is pretty much the best.

Anyway, I was out the other night and I had a good buzz going. And I did not want the night to end, I did not want that feeling to end. So I ended up having one more drink than I meant to and by the time I had eaten and come home I had a slight headache. 

Just a little niggling ache right in the front of my head, over my eyes. I drank some water and hoped sleep would knock it out. 

It did not. I woke up with a pounding headache. My morning was wasted. I tried every headache remedy I could to get the monster under control, but mostly I laid on the couch and moped.

I worried about my lack of production. I had had my morning scheduled to the minute of what I needed to accomplish before I left for an afternoon shift at the day job. So while I closed my eyes against the daylight I weighed things out in my mind. Could I be hungover? It seemed weird that I would feel this bad from having three beers the night before. But maybe I hadn't had enough water. Now I was paying for it. I deserved no sympathy, I needed to suck it up and move on. What kind of grown up let's herself get hungover when she has a million things to do?

Sure, the seasons are changing and I have been a little congested. It could be a sinus headache, but I didn't want to let myself off the hook with a flimsy excuse. I powered through my shift, came home with the same headache, and stumbled into bed feeling guilty as ever.

I woke up this morning with the same headache. My nose is running and my throat kind of hurts. Hooray! I'm not an irresponsible jerk after all. I just have a sinus thing going on. 

I let myself have a lazy morning and I'm heating up some soup. It shouldn't matter I guess, the source of my headache. But it does give me peace of mind that I didn't sabotage myself. And that I am allowed to go out and have a few beers and let myself shut off for a bit.

After all, I can't control the seasons. Or my stupid allergies.