Ah yes, the Morning After. Not that god-awful movie with Jane Fonda and Jeff Bridges, nor am I referencing the 1974 TV film starring Dick Van Dyke. Both of these have a solid sense of what can happen when all those good night time ideas back up on the other side of the meridian, and the dawn brings all that massive payback. I'm here to say it's not just drinking to excess that carries around consequence piggyback into the dawn.
This morning I can barely make a fist, and my lower back feels as though I was a GI Joe twisted around backward one too many times. I am sure that if this teaching gig doesn't work out for one reason or another, I'll be able to find work on somebody's landscape crew, or moving sheet rock. But I'm not sure I want to. Imagining that there are calendars in somebody's office that read: "Monday - Caven's Chimney, Tuesday - Pave Wilson's Driveway, Wednesday - Paint Eastern Hemisphere," and so on just makes me tired. Tired just thinking about it. I used to move and repair steel office furniture.
In my youth. Now it takes just a little while longer to recover. Jimmy Buffett used to sing "If I don't die by Thursday, I'll be roarin' Friday night." These days it feels more like another one of his songs: "A Permanent Reminder of a Temporary Feeling."
Ouch.
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