New Years Starts with a Bang

Good morning.

Should I also say, "Happy 2010"?

I think I was ok last night.

I rub some sticky grit away from my eyes. I push my hair, which has matted itself to my forehead, away from my face. I open my eyes. All still dark. My mouth feels dry. I wonder if it's really as dry as it feels so I put a finger on my tongue.

Not quite bone dry, but almost.

I think it must still be the middle of the night.

Too early to turn on the laptop.

I edge over to the side of the bed, throw my legs over and pull myself upright. I sit there, on the edge of the bed, for a moment. I startle The Man.

"Are you ok?"

"I'm fine." I croak.

"What's wrong then?"

"I'm just going to get some water. Do you want some?"

In the littered kitchen I discover that we are out of clean water glasses and it's almost 700 a.m. I don't even consider washing a glass. There is one on the windowsill above the kitchen sink. It must be either My Man's or mine -- none of the guests in the house have cottoned onto the idea of retaining a water glass for more than one dousing. I fill the glass and start to chug the water. The water is going down like Niagra Falls. Midway through I need a break. I can't breathe. My heart shakes my insides with every beat. I gulp for air. I brace myself against the kitchen counter. I stand perfectly still and listen to my heart beat.

Beat. Beat. Beat.

I go in for the 2nd half of the glass of water. I down it and refill it for My Man. When I get back to the bedroom, he is asleep. Gray light is making its way through the curtains.

I replay the night to doublecheck if I was ok.

I didn't need to open that last bottle of champagne. What a waste of booze.

I can't breathe out of my left nostril. A melancholy tune plays in my head. It's the first bit of a Christmas carol that I've heard for the first time this year.

Little donkey .... little donkey ... little donkey.

It plays over and over again in my head.

I think I was ok last night. Blood dripped from my eyes down my ghoulishly white cheeks. The other guests were impressed. The crying blood made up for the fact that my fangs fell out before I had finished my first glass of wine. Everyone else who had acquired adhesive fangs had had the same problem.

What a rip off.

I think I was ok. My Man complimented my cleavage.

Was it too much?

Perhaps I danced a little too exuberantly when Beyonce came on. I chatted amiably with the random Japanese guests who spoke no English and took lots of photos. I taught one of them a phrase: the more the merrier. I even wrote it down for him. He smiled wide and gave me a thumbs up while nodding vigorously. My Man and others watched from across the room. They told me the Japanese man liked my cleavage too.

I think I was ok.

I need more water.