The 21st of February was like every other Saturday morning. This meant I would probably wake up hung-over and foggy-brained from too much drinking the previous night. There would be a dull but persistent throb in my head, a dryness in my throat and sometimes a dark, often beautiful, but always naked body snuggled against mine. Or if I were less fortunate, I would have to deal it with an oblivious Josh who snored and threw himself carelessly from one end of the bed to another. So yeah, it was another typical Saturday. But it was just me in my bed this time. Hung-over. Naked. Alone.
Besides the overwhelming urge to pee and need to quench the dryness in my throat, the heat from the rising morning sun pushed me out of bed. I stumbled to the bathroom and did my business before opening my cabinet to get out some Panadol for the headache.
And there it was – the Home Kit. My nemesis was staring at me. Continue reading