Today I turned 38, an occurrence that normally would provoke some self-reflection or introspection.
Unfortunately, I'm still suffering from the Saturday night birthday celebration, an evening that entailed a small group of friends, the consumption of multiple bottles of vodka, and an entire slew of doting grandparents who coalesced to cumulatively take all of our respective children away for the entire weekend.
Given a weekend furlough from the normal rigors of parenting, a few of us married couples went out for a night out on the town. Many of us were clearly out of practice so we paid dearly for it on Sunday. Yesterday, I woke up at noon and was desperate for something to clear the cobwebs out of my brain. I tried a wide variety of traditional medicines (Advil, Pepto Bismol, Alka Seltzer) but they seemed to have no palliative effect. In desperation, I then turned to some more homeopathic recipes (pizza, Chinese food, McDonalds) but nothing seemed to do the trick. What was wrong? Why did my head continue to feel as if I'd spent a weekend with the L.A.P.D.? Why was my stomach churning like Vesuvius?
Oh yeah...that's right. I'm 38 years old.
Needless to say, this two-day-old hangover is acutely confirming the fact that I am no longer a spring chicken. Despite my youthful demeanor and boyish deportment, I think it's safe to say that my best partying days are beyond me.
However, for one brief evening, it was a hell of a lot of fun.
And if I need any physical reminders of my evening and its lingering effects, I need only look down at my feet. Whereas my right one seems to be wearing a sock of a bluish color, my left one is cocooned in one that is a very dark brown. It's like my feet are having a circus party! Woo hoo! Happy birthday to me, indeed.