There was a time, not that long ago, where I could get rip-roarin’ drunk and get up early and go to work the next day. It sucked, but I managed. Hell, sometimes I’d get off work and start the whole process over again.
That time is gone. I’ll be 26 next Monday, and I think I am out of my drinking prime. I’ve uttered the words never again in reference to drinking a couple thousand times in my life, but I think I actually may have meant it yesterday morning.