Atomic

I was writing my morning pages this morning as I fought an almost overwhelming impulse to go back to sleep. Boy I was tired, so tired that I was aware of how much effort it was to keep the pen upright as I wrote.

‘It feels like someone has taken tired,’ I wrote, ‘and put it in a nuclear shed, and left it there until it became fully atomic, then shoved it back into me.’ That is how tired I felt. It is important to note for the record that I was not hungover. I did not feel sick and I had no headache, although my brain did feel like it had been replaced by a medicine ball and as though it had a similar level of cognitive function.

When I decided that it was a good idea to join my husband for a drink last night, I failed to properly take in to account a number of things: the level of bad influence that my husband can exert and the enormous amount of alcohol that is available for purchase in a pub. On my way down there, I even considered ordering a soft drink and staying off the grog. I was only going there so we could have a chat about our holiday and see if we could get more than two minutes into the conversation without having a row about how to enjoy ourselves abroad.

Many years ago when we ran a pub, we used to sell and insane amount of a drink called Jagermeister. It is a German drink which boasts the unlikely and frankly unbelievable health-giving properties of 56 herbs in its recipe. It is drunk as a digestif in Germany to quell the stomach after overeating. In England we drank it chilled from shot glasses. It tastes like cough medicine and after knocking one back, you feel like Highlander experiencing ‘the quickening’. We drank a lot of quickening in those days, but our livers were young and resilient. Not like now.

We finished off last night with a couple of Jagers, which made the cold walk home seen warm and easy. Alcohol is a funny drug. If you are tired, then it can make you feel less tired even though it is a depressant. When I had been walking to the pub earlier in the evening, I had been feeling dog tired, but on the way home, I practically skipped.

But of course it was all an illusion. All the alcohol had done was postpone the fatigue by eight hours and now was made worse by the lack of decent sleep that is always the consequence of over indulgence. I have managed to get through all the tasks I had to do today, which included a couple of hours’ work and now I am five minutes away from getting back into bed, and I can’t wait. Tonight I shall sleep and I suspect the sleep is going to be as heavy as the fatigue was this morning. It’s going to be atomic.

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