Would This Be Considered An Abbreviated Version of Hell?

After a carousing mid-harvest vineyard party involving a painful limbo competition, a well-informed tirade on the etymology of the Kiwi usage of "Ta," and me trying to teach a three hundred pound man with sausage fingers how to play mandolin chords, I stumbled home and went to bed. In my dreams, I woke up hungover, made oatmeal and coffee, and at work struggled through the first two hours, wondering why I felt the need to come in so early. Then, in reality, I woke up hungover, made outmeal and coffee, and at work struggled through the first two hours, wondering why I felt the need to come in so early.