OMG am so cracked and hungover
Why do I do these things to myself? Why?
So now, I need to read something before bed. I want it to be soothing and pleasant, but children's books (my normal goto in cases such as these) feel wrong somehow; it's like I can feel Mary Poppins or various Noel Streatfeild nannies or whomever wrinkling their noses in aghast horror at the slight smell of stale red wine that's no doubt still exuding from my hair (how does that happen when I've showered three times since I got home at, er, 10:30am? A modern mystery.)
Then there's the whole drugs-sex-liquor genre (i.e. books that include these things) but while those protagonists won't look at me askance, I'm not sure I'm ready for hair of the dog, even if it is fictional.
Gah. Maybe some Georgette Heyer. Or Discworld.
So now, I need to read something before bed. I want it to be soothing and pleasant, but children's books (my normal goto in cases such as these) feel wrong somehow; it's like I can feel Mary Poppins or various Noel Streatfeild nannies or whomever wrinkling their noses in aghast horror at the slight smell of stale red wine that's no doubt still exuding from my hair (how does that happen when I've showered three times since I got home at, er, 10:30am? A modern mystery.)
Then there's the whole drugs-sex-liquor genre (i.e. books that include these things) but while those protagonists won't look at me askance, I'm not sure I'm ready for hair of the dog, even if it is fictional.
Gah. Maybe some Georgette Heyer. Or Discworld.