Happy shitty Monday

The day starts with a pain from twisted neck and this horrible feeling of having two heads; a big one squeezed into a small one and trying to get out at any cost.

Hangover. Monday.

The worst coincidence ever? You knew it yesterday, but it didn’t stop you from mixing vodka with wine.

And why in the hell I would tell her that she is a control freak with argument; she makes my daily lunch to control what I eat? Dumbest argument ever.

And why she doesn’t like drinking? Why I agreed to have her wine?

Coffee. Help! We are out of coffee.

This is bad, very bad. Bad that there’s no coffee, worse that now I cannot blame her for not buying it.

Flat tire.

This might be a sign. I should stay home, call a sick day.

What about her? Can I ask her to take a bus alone?

No. I have this huge headache seasoned with tons of guilt. I can provoke an argument, which I cannot win, by even looking at her a bit longer. Which most likely can happen, considering how slow I am.

Running to catch a bus.

Now my head or better say heads, are like Russian matryoshka assembled in the opposite way; big once within small once, kicking the way out.

Almost there. Nausea.

Slapping the bus to stop. We are in.

Forgot the wallet. This is definitely a sign.

She hands the change, still no talking.

This road is very uneven. Interesting, that I didn’t notice it before.

Contractors should use hangover man to check the evenness of the road they build.

Only when I reached the office I realized that the change she gave is enough to get to work, but what about coming back?

WHAT ABOUT THE LUNCH?

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