Thursdays at Home (Part 7)

"Hello..."
Languid rises the day.
  The night before stretched into the morning as his head felt heavy from what he hoped was a good time. Empty tall boys, whisky bottles and dirty glasses covered the counters as he or someone else had half heartedly attempted to clean up, piling things into the sink and spraying dishwasher liquid without turning on the water. He filled the sink and looked in the living room to see if anyone was still here, often some would linger days after a party on his largesse, keeping him company during his trips into the darkness. Seeing no one on the couch, he vaguely remembered the cabbie honking his horn as his last remaining guests had staggered into the night, off key singing and carrying something for the road.
  Silently thanking whoever called that cab, he was actually happy to alone for a bit, his headache feeling like a sledgehammer and despite the aspirin he had just taken, he still reached for a can of Caesar, already mixed and ready to go. He knew it would take much more than that to return his balance of not quite sober but not drunk and he flicked on the TV because he couldn't think of anything else to do.
  His days off work were often odd and non consecutive, so benders tended to last weird amounts of time and inevitably he had to learn to cope with being hungover and still productive at work. He was a well practiced drunk who learned the ropes at an early age from venerable masters who helped him shape his future ways with aplomb. Some electrolyte replacement with Pedialyte and copious amounts of water could help end a small one with little effort. Citrus in any form, greasy spoon breakfasts and as much Tylenol as he could manage helped for the heavier days with a little hair of the dog as a last resort, although he hadn't yet sunk as low as that in quite some time. A practiced alcoholic, he planned surprisingly well and had yet to slip up at work, although he rarely saw his family anymore, his evenings taken up with just the sort of stuff you didn't share with those who loved you before you stopped caring.
  Waking with a darkening room, he could see the clouds rolling in for the forecasted thunderstorm and welcomed the relief the cooler weather would bring. Hangovers were even worse when the humidity climbed and your body lost the hydration faster than you could replace it. The fall also signalled bigger and boozier beers from his favourite local craft brewers and of course, the whisky would flow as a the leaves fell. He didn't have a favourite season but when things got cold, he could retreat to his cellar of solitude and drink with the one person he could truly stand to be around...the guy in the mirror.