Take a Deetour

"I write to find out what I think." - Joan Didion

Thursday, July 28, 2005

Recovered: Some Lost Hours


Mr P. finally called and filled in some of the gaps from last night's black hole of lost time. This is how it all went down after we sat down in the kitchen:

  • We spoke for close to an hour. I have no idea what about. He won't tell me. Says where's the fun in that, when he can keep me sitting on tacks for a while? Apparently I said some things I wouldn't ever dream of saying if I wasn't under the influence. Apparently now he knows how I really feel about certain things. Apparently I even said I couldn't be held responsible for the things I said because I'd taken a sleeping pill. One thing's for sure, I have zero recollection of that conversation. If I admit I'm a little worried, will it all go away?

  • He let me drink 3 large tumblers of Bailey's. The irresponsible git. Apparently I poured them myself. One thing's for sure, I have zero recollection of doing so.

  • He had to go to the bathroom. So did I. Apparently, he only realised I'd fallen asleep on the toilet when 10 minutes later he noticed I wasn't answering him back through the toilet door. So he raps on the door, waking me with a huge start. Apparently I slammed the slightly-ajar door shut and screamed, "WHO IS THAT?!" then, "You're still here? Because I was having the most interesting conversation in my head." One thing's for sure, I have no recollection of that happening.

  • He tried to go home. Apparently I tried to make him stay. Apparently I was eventually convinced, saw him to the door, walked to the kitchen and managed to activate the auto gate to let him out. Apparently, from downstairs, he then saw me start doing the dishes(?!). One thing's for sure, I have no recollection of washing anything.

  • From then, I somehow managed to put everything away - bottles, washed dishes and all - turn out all the lights in the hall and kitchen, and fall into bed. Apparently, up till then, I was very responsible in my doped-up state, but not responsible enough to brush my teeth, wash my face, get into my PJs or turn out my bedroom lights. Which explains how my mother found me the next morning fully-clothed, completely dead-to-the-world, lights blazing. I chose to give her an unintelligible answer when asked why like that.

  • Don't ever drink and do drugs, kids.*


  • * Mr. T, who thinks he's very funny, says yes, do one or the other. But never both. Haha.

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