I'm an Occupational Hazard 5
Have I told you lately that I fucking love my girlfriend? She spend the entire morning cleaning puke off my bed and the floor while I was snuggled in her bed, trying to sleep off as much of my hangover as I could before work.
Not really work related this time, but it affected my efficiency during cleaning today, so I say it counts.
Yesterday evening, the entire staff of our hostel (we're six altogether, all living in the hostel) went out to a restaurant that offered all-you-can-eat-and-drink menus while performing live music from the fifties and sixties. There also was a well used dancefloor on which the guests happily hopped along, and our boss wanted us to hopp too. Having severe embaressment issues with anything that even resembles dancing, Friend and I decided to have a bottle of white wine before. It worked quite well. We had a good time, and back at the table we had another bottle. I randomly told everyone that I'd love to go to karaoke with them one day, and Boss informed us there was a karaoke box as part of the restaurant, so we all spontaneousy went there. It was awesome. We were drunk enough to perform an akapella version of Leslie Fish's "Eternal Loser" between songs, I wasn't afraid to sing Japanese songs before Japanese people (or more than two others, which is usually the limit) and at some point I declared my undying love to everyone in the room. Everyone was having a lot of fun. Unfortunately, Friend and I also had a third bottle of wine. Know when to stop, we don't.
I remember leaving the karaoke box, but not the building. I have a vague memory of my ankles hurting (they still hurt, I have no idea why) and of lying in bed puking in the general direction of my boss who was kneeling before me.
According to Friend, we got home around two AM. I woke up around half past eight, feeling great. Then I saw the bucket and the towels and realised it hadn't been a dream. You know, that moment.
Put a towel over my head to hide the puke in my hair as I went downstairs to shower. Came back to Friend cleaning away the puke on the floor and sending me to her bed for another hour of sleep while she took apart the other bed to clean the frame.
Waking up I felt great. It didn't last long into the shift, though. Fortunately, there wasn't much to do on the second floor, and Friend voluntarily took the downstairs shift that includes cleaning the reception area, so I could roll around upstairs as slowly as I liked.
My colleagues all kept telling me to take it slow. I met the other unpaid helper on the stairs later (he had the day off) and apologized for yesterday, and he just laughed and said, "Don't worry about it. Happens to me all the time!"
I have no recollection of this, but according to Friend, he was sitting beside me last night, stroking my back with one hand and holding the bucket with the other, telling me "Let it out. You'll feel better after." Aw.
Apparently, Friend heard me puke in the bathroom last night (I did manage to brush my teeth, which tells you something about my priorities), thought, "Oh well, she let it out, now it's over." Then I came into the room where she changed my into my pyjama (which apparently involved much flailing on my part) went to bed - and puked again. Friend got me out, changed the sheets, I puked into a bucket, Friend thought, "Great, now it's all out, time to sleep!" I went back to bed, puked again. I'm not really sure at which point the colleagues became involved. Of all this, I remember nothing.
Altogether, I ruines three pillow cases, four bedsheets, a buch of towels and my pyjamas. Boss let me clean the sheets during my work time. Boss is awesome.
Why Friend, who isn't that strong a drinker herself, remained largely unaffected is a mystery. She just came back from dinner - I don't really feel like eating anything, ever again.
Not really work related this time, but it affected my efficiency during cleaning today, so I say it counts.
Yesterday evening, the entire staff of our hostel (we're six altogether, all living in the hostel) went out to a restaurant that offered all-you-can-eat-and-drink menus while performing live music from the fifties and sixties. There also was a well used dancefloor on which the guests happily hopped along, and our boss wanted us to hopp too. Having severe embaressment issues with anything that even resembles dancing, Friend and I decided to have a bottle of white wine before. It worked quite well. We had a good time, and back at the table we had another bottle. I randomly told everyone that I'd love to go to karaoke with them one day, and Boss informed us there was a karaoke box as part of the restaurant, so we all spontaneousy went there. It was awesome. We were drunk enough to perform an akapella version of Leslie Fish's "Eternal Loser" between songs, I wasn't afraid to sing Japanese songs before Japanese people (or more than two others, which is usually the limit) and at some point I declared my undying love to everyone in the room. Everyone was having a lot of fun. Unfortunately, Friend and I also had a third bottle of wine. Know when to stop, we don't.
I remember leaving the karaoke box, but not the building. I have a vague memory of my ankles hurting (they still hurt, I have no idea why) and of lying in bed puking in the general direction of my boss who was kneeling before me.
According to Friend, we got home around two AM. I woke up around half past eight, feeling great. Then I saw the bucket and the towels and realised it hadn't been a dream. You know, that moment.
Put a towel over my head to hide the puke in my hair as I went downstairs to shower. Came back to Friend cleaning away the puke on the floor and sending me to her bed for another hour of sleep while she took apart the other bed to clean the frame.
Waking up I felt great. It didn't last long into the shift, though. Fortunately, there wasn't much to do on the second floor, and Friend voluntarily took the downstairs shift that includes cleaning the reception area, so I could roll around upstairs as slowly as I liked.
My colleagues all kept telling me to take it slow. I met the other unpaid helper on the stairs later (he had the day off) and apologized for yesterday, and he just laughed and said, "Don't worry about it. Happens to me all the time!"
I have no recollection of this, but according to Friend, he was sitting beside me last night, stroking my back with one hand and holding the bucket with the other, telling me "Let it out. You'll feel better after." Aw.
Apparently, Friend heard me puke in the bathroom last night (I did manage to brush my teeth, which tells you something about my priorities), thought, "Oh well, she let it out, now it's over." Then I came into the room where she changed my into my pyjama (which apparently involved much flailing on my part) went to bed - and puked again. Friend got me out, changed the sheets, I puked into a bucket, Friend thought, "Great, now it's all out, time to sleep!" I went back to bed, puked again. I'm not really sure at which point the colleagues became involved. Of all this, I remember nothing.
Altogether, I ruines three pillow cases, four bedsheets, a buch of towels and my pyjamas. Boss let me clean the sheets during my work time. Boss is awesome.
Why Friend, who isn't that strong a drinker herself, remained largely unaffected is a mystery. She just came back from dinner - I don't really feel like eating anything, ever again.