I failed at puking and I failed at eating the tater tots which were torturous to make. I really do not know why I thought I could wait a whole twenty minutes to eat but I tried. It's quite a ridiculous scene, me curled up in a ball on the couch, staring at the tater tots, glaring at the tater tots that want so badly to be eaten but my stomach so badly wants me to leave it alone.
And there I was. In purgatory. And I thought: could meditation cure my hang-over?
Now as you could probably guess, I'm not a big meditator. I fail at meditating on about equal par with vomiting.
But, I thought I'd give it a shot since all the usuals were not doing the trick. I sat up...a little too quickly I might add. I aligned my spin. I closed my eyes. I took a deep breath in. "This is fucking stupid." Thinking. Thinking. Thinking I labeled it. And I took another breath. And that lasted a whole 30 seconds.
It did not cure my hang over in the slightest. And it was such a good idea. Dang.
Perhaps if I become a more dedicated and regular practitioner of meditation the hangover cure will come, but I can't expect miracles. On to the next step. More ibuprofen and sleep.