Black Clouds Woke up. Didn't want to. In a foul mood. Another resolution wasted. Challenged God to take me. Didn't work. Head thumping. Stomach washer-ing. Limbs trembling. Feel awful. Covid? Don't think so. More like death. Drag myself up. Walk/crawl to bathroom. Head bowed. Let me die. Please God! I hate hangovers.
Oh, I remember that pain. From a very long time ago though … with age came at least enough wisdom to go easy on the alcohol!
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ππ Unfortunately, age and wisdom are not always comfortable partners!
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True!
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We characterise it as calling God on the royal telephone on Oz. π
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Oz has some great sayings!
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Things can only get better!
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You took the words right out of my mouth! πππ€
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Thought it would! π
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ππ€
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Hands you a Bloody Mary! The end was never near, just felt like it π
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I love your clever comments!
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π
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Good write. Shame on you if you did. If you didn’t, excellent write!
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Thanks. I couldn’t have written it if I did. Although I have!
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HaHa; unfortunately they’re par for the course this time of year π¦
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Each time we drink we say, ‘cheers!’ But this is why it’s called Boo-ze. Sorry for your pain.
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π Loved that!
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I thought it was sth serious, in the end ,only to know that it was just another hangover.
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π A sigh of relief then! My serious poems sometimes have a little twist in them, but not always!
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