verisimilitudes

I’m listening to my personal traditional hangover music, a portent of bad things.

The sun is shining too-brightly outside, it’s 1.29pm, my room is a disgrace, my slept-in clothes (and shoes) are strewn on the floor, and I have the suspicion of kebab, but no actual proof. Bartender-tipping single bills are all over the place, napkins with curious biro drawings stuffed into a pocket, and what’s this thing?

…… yeah…… it was another Friday night.