What to do when you're drunk at 9am

Why is there a soft toy weasel under my kitchen table?
Who made brownies in the night?
What the hell happened to my back?

Just two of the big questions I'll be tackling this morning, as I helplessly watch Saturday, in all it's peppy brightness, pass me by.

For what else could one do when this drunk at 9am. I certainly can't sleep it off. Nor can I send any job applications. I definitely cannot graze through any more Tracker bars without seriously compromising the healthy eating regime. No, this is what Netflix is for, and yet my heart races at the licentious thought of throwing away this morning on laziness. It seems positively profligate.

This is the part of the week when I normally delude myself that I'll turn all chaos around. I'll go for a good run or two, do some hardcore studying, write letters, finish the novel, spend quality time with loved ones, bake and clean the house. Make big plans.

Well, I've already baked, it appears, not that any of the ingredients seem to have been weighed or in some cases even included, and I will definitely have to do something about the flour I'm treading through this tiny flat. So there's two things to cross off.

Running might be a good idea, flush it out and all that, but there's this weird, soft snowfall - a bit like flecks of ash wisping about in the garden, not settling. I went out there earlier and one fell on my arm. I stared at it, entranced by it's melting beauty, watching it fold into the cloth of my sleeve. Then I saw a dead mouse on the lawn and came back inside. Eugh.

As for the novel. Well, I could give it a go, but to be honest, I think my IQ score may be muddling below 70 right now, and the same goes for job applications. Nobody wants to read something that looks like it was written by a Sesame Street cast member. Studying? Well, I'm paying for those journalism exams so I sort of want to pass them, no offence, drunk me. God knows how I spend all that time in this state as a student. I can't remember reading all those books. But at least it explains why I've only ever seen half of every great modern movie, having fallen asleep at the crucial points. Mmm, maybe it IS time to give Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind another go?

Oh. OH. OK. Just found some chocolate brownie mixture soldered to the back of my head.

So, what's left? Big plans? Quality time with loved ones? No doubt when people are awake I'll pick up the phone and offer my busy and virtuous friends and family some scintillating conversation, but right now I think it's time to sit back and wait. I'm not even going to do the washing up. I'm going to waste this weekend and feel indignant about the booze monster, stealing my youth and allowing my life to pass me by. Goodbye responsibility. Goodbye weird brownie mixture. Go away list of work. It's time for a nap.


Then I can spend all week in a mood about it.