So now, I am boss-less and manager-less. I deal straight with my MD, which is bad and good.
For the past three weeks, I have been meeting lots of people. Which is good, because I now have people to hang out whenever I need someone. The downside is that I haven't had much time for myself.
For the past four weekends except for this one, I have been out clubbing. I am already tired of it.
It's great when it's with a bunch of friends or when I am really stressed out and need to let my hair down. Otherwise, it's just going for the sake of going.
Besides, I need more than one day to recover. When I reach home in the wee of hours of the morning, I could barely sleep. I am not sure whether it's the alcohol or me taking a longer time to wind down, but I could never sleep soundly. I will probably be awake by 9 am and maybe get a couple of hours of sleep in the afternoon.
I definitely need more than 5 hours of sleep a day!
For every one hour of lost sleep, one needs two hours to compensate. So for the rest of the week, I would be half conscious and zombie-like.
Nothing of significance happened, except that I was at a party on Friday. There was another one yesterday, but I didn't go as I wanted to recuperate from my slightly excessive alcohol binge.
Actually, I do know when to stop. I know what my limits are. I was pretty OK when I left the host's house. But once I got into the car and it started moving, the motion was unbearable and I felt ill.
The alcohol effect was immediate.
I knew where I was and what I was doing. I could hear other people's voices but my eyelids were heavy.
I puked on the roadside and I was taken to a petrol station's toilet to puke some more. But actually there wasn't anything else to come out.
Getting back into the car, there was occasionally the feeling of more wanting to come out, but I think I only puked one more time.
Really, this is the first time I have had it this bad. I still think it was all because of the motion sickness that made it worse.
The other people in the car were kind enough to take good care of me and especially holding the bag for me.
Thanks, guys! Thanks too for guiding me up back to my flat and to the front door.
Anyway, I was identified as a "drunken prawn" in the mailing list the very next day. No thanks to the work of the
The drunken prawn got home safely, thanks to all those who nursed him all the way back, although he attracted considerable attention from curious motorists wondering why he was topless, comatose and clutching a plastic bag.
When I left the party, I was looking alright and no way anyone would have thought I would be ill!
Thankfully, I didn't know that many people at the party. Ten, max.
And hopefully, not many remember my name! ;P