Tonight I ate an entire bag of Kettle Chips. I blame my wife for this, because she bought two huge bags of the upmarket crisps home today, and she knew I had willpower deficiencies. I didn’t enjoy eating them after a quarter of the way into the packet, but compulsively I carried on well after all joy was gone. Then, filled with salty fried potatoes, I lay on the sofa and groaned.
Now, I’ve had crisp hangovers before (although a search of this blog fails to locate an account of one) but never within twenty minutes of inhaling the crisps. This felt especially rotten, and was worrying given how Christmas is a time for eating too much – I was hardly starting with a non-toxic body.
I hadn’t been for a run since Sunday, so at nine, as my wife made a start on cinnamon rolls for tomorrow, I got changed and went out for a run. My lips felt like they had been coated with a paste of monosodium glutamate. My gut was heavy and unhappy. And as I wandered around the side of the Buddhist temple, I ran into a couple of my friends, drunkenly walking from cocktail bar to cocktail bar, trying to pry me out to have fun with them.
"I can’t go out drinking, what would my wife think?"
"Don’t worry, just come back smelling of piss" came the reply.
I fled. They’re nice, good people, but if the consequence of going drinking with them was going to be returning home smelling of piss, I needed to stay far away. Or they needed to consult the different monographs on etiquette and toilets that I’ve been writing for the past few weeks.
Still, exercise instead of booze. Perhaps I have some willpower after all.
It was quiet out; the rain may have washed most people from the streets. I managed almost 5k in 25 minutes, then slunk home to watch Harold and Kumar’s Christmas, but then La Serpiente Aquatica Negra awoke at 10:30 and that destroyed all hope of an evening of mindless entertainment. Maybe it’s better saved for Christmas Day anyway.