Fish fried

Oh man. I went to what was supposed to be a small affair, a little get-together over some locally caught fish, and a few friendly refreshments. I had four beers, two fish and an inordinate amount of salt. That's how I like my fish.

I woke up the next day feeling like, as I've heard it said, I'd been "eaten by a coyote and shit over a cliff." Now, four beers is a significant consumption, but not even close to a harmful amount, hangover-wise. If you're not sure, take my word for it - I've done the research.

For my entire Sunday, I trudged through the day as if I'd been poisoned or beaten, and although I was game enough to be intermittently active, my heart was certainly not in it. Muscle aches, headache and sleep deprivation sapped my strength, and I haven't been so glad to retire for the night in quite some time.

I awoke today at 5am, feeling so much better that I couldn't stay in bed. There's nothing like briefly feeling thoroughly like shit to remind you how good normal feels.