This Actually Happened

I came home from work on Tuesday and did my usual.  Turned on the TV, checked my e-mail and then chekced facebook.  I had a message in my facebook inbox that was, without a doubt, the strangest question I have ever received.  At first, I dismissed it as a joke or a hacked account.  I immediatelly called Leah to get her opinion.  We both agreed it was legitimate  Here's the question, copied from facebook (I've changed names to protect the people asking the absurd question):

I waited a few days to respond.  Here it is:

I don't know how, but stuff like this happens to me on an almost weekly basis.  I hope you enjoyed it.

Sunday Morning With A Dollar Sign

The bed shakes.  My eyes snap open.  I don't move my head.  Instead, I stare deeply at my alarm clock.  It's 6 hours and 12 minutes slow.  I close my eyes again and drift back to sleep.  I wake up in what seems like seconds to the sound of something being dragged across my floor, zipped up, and lifted.  I peel open my eyes and try to see what it is.  It's my friend, Leah.  She's getting her things and rolling her bag out of my loft.  The bed shakes again, more violently this time.  My eyes open once more.  I watch a red head uncover, rub her eyes and walk out of my room.  I sit up, confused.  I could only see her from behind, but I have no idea who that was.  At that moment, the headache sinks in.  It feels like some one is trying to flush my brain down my spinal cord.  When I try to swallow, my throat feels like I had been drinking sand for several hours.  I reach for a cup on my nightstand and put it to my lips to hydrate.  Empty.  Damn.  I can smell the whiskey on my breath as it circulates in the cup.  Slowly, I sit up.  I pivot on the mattress and place my feet on the cold cement floor.  I grab the cup and walk out of my room to the main room in my loft.

I examine the scene.  Bottles of all types are every where.  Wine bottles, beer bottles and liquor bottles, not to mention the dozens of glasses laying on window sills, the kitchen table, end tables and the coffee table.  The stench of stale beer fills the entire room, it creeps into every corner and settles inside every cupboard.  I inadvertantly breathe it in, it reminds me of the night before.  What I can remember anyway.  I head to the sink, turn on the water and fill up my cup.  While I ravenously pour the water down my throat, I examine my place a little closer.  There's a pair of boxers near my television, playing cards on the kitchen table and a pair of boxer briefs close to my mini fridge (the beer fridge).  Yes, the mini fridge is in addition to the standard fridge.  I stop drinking so I can take a breath.  The sand washes away from my throat.  I fill the cup again.

I stumble to my couch.  There, I find the red head.  My friend, Molly.  She looks just as hungover as I am.  I throw myself on the chase half of my sectional, turn on the TV and hope it's on a channel with something interesting showing.  There will be no channel surfing with this hangover.  Before I can determine what's on, I already start drifting back to sleep.  My eye lids get heavy.  Sleeping is the only rescue from the horrid hangover.  It's Sunday morning, my alarm clock showed 2:13 PM, so it's really 8:01 in the morning.  I went to bed about 4 hours ago.  Just before I slip back to sleep, I reach into the pockets of the pants I wore last night.  I'm still wearing them.  As usual, my tab is in my back pocket.  Scared of what I'm about to see, I unfold the receipt.  It's about as bad as I thought.  The hangover suddenly feels warranted.  Guess I'll sleep this one off.  As usual.

I'm almost 26.  It's normal to do this still, right?