The Long Way Home

Last week was the first time I really went out since I’ve moved back home. And by going out I only mean going to our local watering hole. I haven’t made it all the way into the city yet. But that night it didn’t matter, it was just me and the guys drinking our bar dry. You couldn’t ask for a better night out.

It was perfect until those last two vodka red bulls I ordered that I didn’t need. My body could have done without them. They were exactly what sent me over the edge, gave me the spins, and prevented me from being able to call a ride home like a normal person. I had the spins severely and the only way I was able to slow them down was by walking. So walking I did.

It took me damn near three hours for me to get home that night. In case you’re wondering, a three hour walk equates to almost six miles of walking. I won’t lie to you I didn’t walk the entire way home. I had called two uber rides that took me two blocks each before the world started spinning and I had to get out. I’m grateful for them at least helping me cut down my time slightly. Eventually I made it home, went straight to my bed, and passed out before I could even get my jeans off. I didn’t remember anything after those last couple vodka red bulls I had. My bed was spinning and all I needed was to sleep.

I slept for almost ten hours that morning. It was perfect. Perfect that is until I went to do my laundry the next day. My pants from the night before somehow ended up on my floor but that was it. The shirt and belt I was also wearing last night were nowhere to be found. I spent the first two hours of my day ripping the house apart looking for them.

So if anyone sees a Batman belt or a white and red v neck t shirt on farm street please grab it for me. It’s actually the only belt I own.

P.S. If I saw you that night I’m sorry I don’t remember. Let’s just pretend like I still haven’t seen you in years and we’ll catch up for real when I’m in a more coherent state of mind.

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