The longest hangover ever

I don't get sick.

That's what I tell myself, though Facebook, with its handy flashback reminders, told me at this time four years ago that was a lie: "Day six of the Super Cold, or whatever they're calling it these days..."

So okay, I guess I get sick from time to time, though I always make it to work, though that says far more about economic necessity than any particular dedication to my craft.

But this virus has proven to be a formidable opponent. In fact, my antibodies have informed me that they've decided to pack it in, forcing me to resort to extreme rationalization to get my viral-fighting team back into the game.

I don't have the Swine Flu, I tell them, or even the Bubonic Plague, as one of my bleary-eyed and dog-tired antibodies suggested. I woke up feeling like shit at 4 a.m. on January 1 - about 90 minutes after falling asleep after a pretty awesome night of drinking with Candice on New Year's Eve - so I am not a victim of any virus.

I'm just suffering through the longest hangover of my entire life.

Today is Day 13, and while most of my symptoms have gone away, I still have a hacking cough, my body still aches and my energy levels have not fully returned to 2018 levels.

Is it a hangover?

We're not talking a very high bar here.

It could be worse, so I should be thankful for that. My stress levels were super high leading into the Christmas season, what with my car being essentially unsafe (bald tires, a driver side power window with no power and open to the elements and bumpers - front AND back - that would fall off when the wind got too gusty) and a credit card debt load that had soared past 'crippling' and screeched dangerously close to that point of no return called bankruptcy.

Throw in my every day depression and it's a wonder I was able to function at all.

Anyway, upon listening to the advice of friends less negative than myself, I paid a visit to my girl Caroline at the dealership where I found my last car and she was able to put me behind the wheel of a brand new vehicle, albeit a Chevrolet Spark, a model that is no bigger than a minute but with all its working parts.

And then I said, what the hell, let's go for broke and I paid a visit to my friendly neighbourhood TD bank, where my new pal Deven got me approved for a consolidation loan to reduce my monthly payments by a considerable margin.

On top of all that my boy Danny is setting me up with an interview with Lear in Ajax, which is steady hours and better pay, so there has been some really positive things happen to me since this viral hangover took over my life.

And still I hack my lungs out several times a day. Still I feel like shit. And still my treasonous antibodies refuse to pitch in and help me get better.

The worst thing about all this is my desire to drink beer - and I have a fridge full of fantastic beer - has been practically non-existent since New Year's Day. I'm up to seven as of this writing in the past two weeks; with most of those being consumed in the last three days.

Or is it the dreaded Swine Flu?

I don't remember signing up for Dry January...

More rest would be helpful, but I've getting plenty of hours in 2019, thanks to Darryl, that jovial, Jam lovin' (sugar-free), and Judicial former proprietor of my local in downtown Oshawa.

His OG Whitby location has been selling pork rinds by the truck load so he has me working in his pigskin factory three-four hours a day after I'm done at the landscaping job. What with the lack of snow and all, the two jobs combine to just make one regular full-time gig, so it's not like I'm over-worked.

Still, I could use the rest. especially with the super cold temperatures of late and with my contract-breaking antibodies on strike.

I'm been doing a few deliveries for Darryl as well, and one took me to Sawdust City Brewing in Gravenhurst - one of the stops on the memorable December 8 Barrie and Beyond Craft Brewery Invasion - with a car load of BBQ goodness for the brewery kitchen.

It's also where I had my first beer since New Year's Eve, a Let's Get B.I.S.A. Session Ale, which seemed appropriate considering I still had a long drive home ahead of me. The good thing about this virus extended hangover is that my sinus cavities have not been affected, so beer still smells and tastes great.

I just have no desire to have more than one.

Speaking of my local, Darryl may have sold Buster Rhino's in Oshawa last month, but new ownership re-opened the place (with booths!) on New Year's Day as Top Corner, and they brought my three favourite servers in the whole world with them. I popped in the day before opening (and the day before The Sickness) and promised Sarah and Shanice I would be there the next night to help celebrate new beginnings.

It would be ten days before I finally found the energy to see the new place.

Ten Days!

I still wasn't one hundred per cent, but I couldn't put it off any longer. Besides, on the off chance this wasn't a hangover and actually was some sort of Super Flu, I was no longer a carrier of the disease, so my friends (if they were there) should be safe.

Actual images of my antibodies giving up and leaving
my body. Traitors.

They were there. Sarah and Shanice were working the bar and on the other side was Brittni, her new beau (his name was 'Babe' or 'Travis,' not sure which) and my pal Jeff.

It was like I never left.

So I had a couple of beers, we chilled for a bit and then we broke out the cards for a few games of Euchre.

And Brittni had the audacity to ask me if she thought it was wise to partner with Travis for the first game. "You should partner with me Britt," I answered. "If you want to win."

I missed this so much.

Tomorrow marks two weeks with this hangover, and I'm hoping I wake up in the morning feeling fresh as a daisy and looking twice as pretty.

I'm two beers in as I write this, so that's a start. And I'm also in a forgiving mood, so if any of my antibodies are reading this, you are welcome back.

I may need you in the near future.

Cheers!