MHA #2 | Saturday Morning...ish

[defenderofdesmoines]

The sun was out, which was terrible of it, really, and the ruins of the Christmas rager lay before anyone who had slept here last night. The tub, miraculously, still stood, full of half-melted ice and gross citrus peels and candy that had not made it into cups. The kitchen was nothing short of a disaster. There was tinsel and glitter everywhere.

But.

There was also coffee brewing, and Annie -- zonked and mildly (success!) hungover though she was -- had put on a kettle in case there was, like, a British person asleep in a corner somewhere. And true to tradition, Barry -- who was absolutely there and had been the whole time, of course -- had supplied a veritable army of bagels for the hungover troops this morning.

Hopefully you don't have any regrets beside a headache, and maybe the sweater you chose to wear.

[open to anyone who crashed here last night (feel free to say you did!), or anyone who'd like to swing by to help clean up the carnage!]

Comments

[defenderofdesmoines]

"I could try to get more hungover?" Annie offered, picking up a glass from the counter and giving it a sniff before second-guessing that cute little offer. "Oh God, no, I was wrong on both counts -- I just needed to smell it. Gross. Gross, gross."

Carbs and coffee would help her, too.