Due to my recent impairment, I’ve refrained from being impaired for at least a week – even professionally (despite the fact that the memo allows it). Knowing Sleepless, Oreggano and I planned to have a night out on the town, I stopped taking my pain medications a few days after the surgery and a few days before our outing so that I could really tie one on with them.
It appears, however, my body was not entirely ready and returning to the drinking world full/fool speed ahead may not have been my best idea as of late. The margarita, penis shots, vodka/cran (totally medicinal to fend off bladder infections) and whatever was in the styrofoam cup totally kicked my ass. Two weeks to the day that I fell and broke my shoulder, I was falling off the wagon.
Although I slept relatively well, I woke up wrecked. “We probably shouldn’t have gone full force last night,” Oreggano said. “I think you may need a little hair of the dog,” Ice Cream Man advised after apologizing profusely to the three of us (and buying us “I’m Sorry” balloons, cake, cupcakes and a card) for sleeping through all of our calls/text messages for a ride home.
I opted against that choice since my pain appeared to have moved from my head and shoulder to my gut. Speaking of which, I have a gut feeling I should have stayed on the wagon a little while longer.