Lord help me, there has not been much sleep in the last 24-hours. This is my curse. If I take myself to late-night boozy town, I wake up about two hours after I fall asleep, and the rest of the sleep is in broken fragments. Before the concert and after the concert, there were drinks, shots, and so much laughter that our faces and stomachs were sore from all the hilarity. But then, nobody was feeling too hilarious this morning. Though it was an excellent night, we’ve realized that we’re just not kids anymore, partying without the consequence of our bodies fighting back at the abuse.
But if I thought I felt a bit exhausted, and kind of icky–nothing compared to my husband. That bear is feeling lousy. And so, there is little to report, and even less energy to muster recollections from the night before. I just can’t stomach it.
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