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Dublin: 15 °C Sunday 21 October, 2018
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20 milestones of every two-day hangover

If you’ve experienced one, you will know.

Saturday night: Go out with the lads for one or two, because you’re being good this month. Last seen doling out Jagerbombs to almost everyone in the bar before disappearing off home because you felt a bit ’tired’.

Sunday morning: Awake to the fires of hell raging inside you. Spend the day anxiously poring over pub receipts, gorging on takeaway foods, and being ravaged by existential dread.

Sunday evening: After this day of torment, you go to bed actually looking forward to the morning and the sense of normalcy it will bring. Anything is better than this, right?

Monday, 7am: You awake to a general, full-body ache and realise that you were wrong. Very wrong.

💀 #twodayhangover #neverdrinkingagain

A photo posted by Rachael Anne Mackie 🌸 (@rachaelam__) on

8.30am: The full-body ache has been joined by a mild but persistent headache and an irritability so strong it has you cursing the children making their way happily to primary school. Soon, children! Soon!

9am: Catch sight of yourself in a reflective surface and flinch.

10am. Meet Sharon from Accounts in the kitchen. She asks “So how was your weekend?” and you’re filled with so much animosity that you come *this* close to hissing at her.

11am: Consider leaving the office for an ‘elevenses’ of sausage rolls and Lucozade. You try to persuade your deskmate Pádraic, who you KNOW is also fond of the sesh, to come out with you, but he just looks at you with fear and pity in his eyes.

Breakfast of champions #lucozade #squares #wishiwasinbed #twodayhangover 😴😴😴

A post shared by 🍓👩‍👦‍👦🦄 (@_lizziebow) on

12pm: You spend some time wondering what you did to deserve this.

12.10pm: Scroll through your photos from Saturday night and understand completely.

1pm: Leave the office for yet more sausage rolls and assorted deli items, ignoring your colleagues and their little lunch boxes. They spent all day yesterday roasting vegetables and making marinades for chicken breasts, the smug shites.

2pm: Open up change.org and consider starting a petition called ‘Taoiseach Enda Kenny: Nap Rooms Should Come As Standard In Offices Around Ireland’. Close change.org.

NOOOOOO! I #curse you #October #tonsillitis #sorethroat #aching #sore #tired #lemsip #strepsils #covonia

A photo posted by Phillip Nicholson (@pan_american_1960) on

3pm: You manage to convince yourself that you’re not hungover but actually very sick, and begin feeling appropriately sorry for yourself.

3.30pm: You remind yourself that no, you’re not sick, you brought this all on yourself and you deserve it.

3.35pm: Feel the shame wash over you again.

4pm: Glance at the clock for the fourth time in as many seconds and wonder why it isn’t 5pm yet. You could have SWORN it was 5pm. Ask Pádraic to check his watch just to be sure you have the right time. You do.

Dumpling perfectly demonstrating my level of adult today. #twodayhangover

A post shared by Nai (@thisboican86) on

5pm: Deliverance. Finally. You are so relieved to get home you’re only slightly enraged by the many terrible drivers/pedestrians/people on the bus. Are there more than usual? Just to taunt you on this painful day? You cannot say.

6pm: Apply your comfiest, loosest clothing and fold yourself into a blanket burrito. Remain cocooned for the rest of the evening, rising only to throw a pizza gratefully unearthed from the freezer into the oven.

7pm: Google ‘Dry January’ and ‘Sober October’ and think about that for a while. Ultimately decide it may not be for you.

9pm: Retire to bed three hours earlier than you normally do, promising never to put yourself through this again. Renege on that promise just five days later.

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