Smacked with a shamrock...

That about sums up what my head feels like right about now. I think it's safe to say I had a little too much of a good time at the party last night. That pint of Guinness is what put me over the edge, I'm sure of it. I was fine with the shots and Baileys... but once I started on that pint, things started gettin' awful wonky.

Just as everyone was about to sit down for dessert, I walked steadily and determinedly to the bathroom and awaited the onslaught. My head went dizzy and the room started to sway. I gathered myself enough to make it to my friend's bed and curled up with her cat. Her purring and warm belly were soothing, but not enough to make the room stop moving.

I could hear Danny downstairs saying at least one of us needed to go home that night to tend to the fur-children. By the time he came to check on me, I had slept a little and felt well enough to be shuffled into the car for the 15 minute drive home.

After dumping my clothes on the glider, I crawled into bed and don't remember much after that. I woke up at 4:30-ish and noticed Danny wasn't in bed... I figured he'd fallen asleep on the sofa while watching TV or surfing on his iPad. I grabbed the bottle of water from my nightstand and all but drained it before passing back out.

The next thing I knew, an icy cold body was sliding into the bed next to me. We snuggled up, got warm and fell back to sleep. By the time we woke, it was well after 10 in the morning. I missed my temp time, but considering the fact that I did a fair bit of drinking the night before and AF hasn't fully vacated the premises, I really didn't think it was that big of a deal.

The rest of the day has been spent getting caught up on episodes of Survivor, cooking shows I recorded yesterday and a few other "junk" shows. My kitchen looks like World War III took place in there, so I know what my Monday is looking like.

Yay me!