Tuesday Morning Hangover
I groaned. While it probably could be heard several blocks away, hopefully it couldn't be traced back to me and my hangover. I winced as the tiny gnomes wielding their sledgehammers inside my head worked up to speed. My mouth tasted like my favorite Cowboys had stampeded through it with their shoes off. My arms... exactly what was wrong with my arms? I didn't seem to be able to move them. I wanted to lift my head and see what was going on but thought I should rest first. 48 hours sounded...