Anxiety

Why do we always have to wake up with such anxiety the day after when the evening was rather pleasuresome? Well, if you don't count me trailing after my sis and everyone she knew in that place (well, can't help it, they were all old, I didn't see a soul that seemed familiar), or that overly tanned blonde chick who literally pushed me away straight into the wall while I was talking to the singer of the band. Thanks to her, it didn't get to much further than, "Hi, I'm Bekki!", and the singer going, "Well, hello Betty", and me trying to explain how it's spelled with K's, not T's, and that it's Be-kki, not Be-tty (and yes, it's actually quite true that I've had to face this problem before with people mishearing my name). Seeing as I didn't get a chance to do what I was really trying to do, which was tell the singer we'd much enjoyed the show and that I've listened to their music ever since their first album, I was rather exhilarated to see that sunburnt chick become totally ditched by the same singer just moments after. So much for pushing me out of the way, ha, ha.
Sigh, he's too old for me anyway, right? Ha, ha. Well, she can be all happy about having been ditched by that singer dude (poor her, she didn't get anything that night, boo hoo), and I'll just stick to being happy I got to shake hands and introduce myself (me, who was there to talk about the music, and who wasn't a desperate 40 year old who thought she was something and could most definitely get something).

I woke up like half an hour ago in an apartment that isn't mine, under a blanket that isn't mine either, and fully dressed. I thought I would pass out from the heat. (And no, none of that is as bad as it sounds, although almost. Sis had a mate we slept over at - I don't wanna know what happened in the other room and I hope I will never find out, but I can guess.) I made sure to get out of there soon as possible. Had a bunch of laundry to fetch back here which I should have already taken out late last night but never got the time, and so someone had just plucked it all out and put it aside when I got here. Damn, we'll see if sis gets in touch later on today, but for my part... it's good to be home.

And damn, I'm being anxious. It's hard to laugh at anything while your head is thumping almost as well as the drummer drummed with his sticks last night. My head feels like a giant... heavy... something. That is aching.

I'll try and hang the rest of those clothes up and then see if I can get myself to bed. My own beloved bed in my own place.

I'm just not ready.
Hungover,
says the Poet in the Jar,
although at least up at this hour...