I am not nineteen anymore. I can no longer fully function or even appear to be a on Monday after a gongshow of a weekend. The four hour shift began shortly before 5 PM, and from the get go, I was a no go.
Exhausted would have been an understatement. The bags under my eyes took on a racoon effect, my eyes could barely stay open, and it was painfully obvious that my feet hurt--my voice did too.
Revelling after work until all hours of the morning is something I recall being so fond of. It didn't mean I was going to feel like I got hit by a city bus at full speed. Yawn.