With a massive hangover which I’m not sure is due to the sugar overload or the actual alcohol, I wake up. Why can’t it be Saturday? Or a bank holiday? Or any other day when I don’t have to go to work? I would groan out loud if that wouldn’t require the amount of energy needed.
Moving like a literal zombie and trying hard not to focus on the nausea that is fighting to take over my body, I scan the flat for Carrie. She’s nowhere to be seen, but the ibuprofen that’s sitting on the kitchen counter tells me she’s alive. And she’s gone to work without even bothering to see if I’m still breathing, nevermind able to wake up and join her. The truth is that Carrie, as airheaded as she is, she’s usually amongst the first people in the Vauxhall building. I guess having Adam Davies as your head of the
