Yes

I long for the days that I was able to roll out of bed after a less than sober night and spring into immediate action; cooking my gals a greasy breakfast and cringing with them over our less-than-ladylike antics the previous night. Nowadays, I’m lucky if I can utter anything more than a mono syllable. Springing out of bed post- bender is still nothing but a dream *stares wistfully into the distance* in fact, rolling out of bed and landing on the rug is even a little ambitious. 

A wiser woman would know that there’s a lesson to be learned here somewhere right? And that lesson is…I JUST WON’T GO TO BED AT ALL. NO, that’s not it…oh right, I should stop getting unmercifully pissed and learn to drink responsibly. Which, to be fair, I am capable of. My problem is that nowadays I’m lucky if I go on two or three nights out in the whole year, so when I do…well, the four horsemen of the apocalypse actually follow me around, you know, just in case. 

So lesson one of my thirties?? NO MORE DOUBLES. JUST….NO JANE. BAD JANE. 

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Makes SenseΒ 

I feel happy. And pretty carefree. Probably because I just had tea and a biscuit which usually results in a sugar-induced euphoria. Anyways, I hope you guys are having a wonderful Monday (I’m sure it’s possible) and I’m going to spin in a circle with my hand extended so everyone gets a high-five. Here’s my thought of the day: