It never fails. Whenever I am hungover on a work day (which is hardly ever), I have the busiest day. Its as if my attorneys know that I had a rocking good time the night before and decide to punish me for it. I know that my attorneys wish they could leave work at 5:00pm and spend the rest of the evening drinking, but c'mon. Do you really think its a good idea to have me make a zillion travel arrangements when my head feels like its been pounded by hundreds of angry kittens?
Margarita Sundays seemed like such a good idea when I was unemployed. But tequila and disorganized attorneys really don't mix unless both are consumed at the same time. I only have myself to blame for my predicament, of course. And yes, I know that I should've called in sick, but I already did that last week after a night of drunken karaoke.
This morning I woke up, sucked down a Vitamin Water, pulled on whatever appeared to be clean and mildly work appropriate and hustled into the office. Did I mention that riding a crowded subway car on a steamy August morning is also not the best hangover cure? As I got to my desk, I was just about to wolf down the delicious breakfast sandwich I got on the way in when Partner 1 yelled from his office, "Secy! Get in here. We need to make arrangements for my trip to Chicago. I'm leaving tomorrow morning." Ugh. Please kill me now. Just break that bottle of Patron over my head and put me out of my misery. And, way to wait until the last minute to book your trip, Partner 1!
After spending about 2 hours dealing with Partner 1's ever changing mind about his trip to Chicago (more on this later), I finally got to eat my sandwich. It was soggy and gross at this point, but I don't care. I'm hungover. Did I mention that my outfit is covered in cat hair? In my tequila haze I forgot take off my makeup from the night before, so now I have that smudgy, heroin chic look. Always the professional.
Its only 11am and I am already thinking about running out the door, never to be heard from again. Then I remember, I need this salary so that I can sober up and partake in Sangria Tuesdays.
I can't read about margaritas without remembering "the devil and margarita". All that book was good for was to trigger a craving for margaritas, and if you tried to actually read it, it was so confusing that it just intensified the need for a drink!
ReplyDelete