Earlier this week while talking with an old friend I was reminded of days when a Friday pay check equaled a long a week end spent in dive bars where ever we were. Those weekends always ended badly on Sunday morning. I recall, quite clearly, the painful haze of the hang overs; as the song says "no way to hold your head that didn't hurt." It was not just a head ache involved though, a week stomach, a stabbing neck pain, and incredible fatigue all had to be dealt with on Sundays. And to be honest, there isn't an aspirin in the world that can make a dent in a good hangover. I suppose the main question that comes to mind is; Why did we do that to our selves? The answer: It was well worth the pain. In those days we had very little real responsibility.On the worst mornings the hardest job we might have had was to get up and feed whatever animals that were under our care. And even though the job seemed tough at the time you could struggle through it with out much problem.
Now though, things have changed; while Sunday mornings are not exactly pain free, they have become much more enjoyable. The pain that I have this morning is a dull ache in my chest and back, but instead of the regret of a bender, I am able to take pride in this morning's soreness. It comes from a better place. Now I drink my coffee and have my morning smoke while enjoying the cool crispness of a golden fall morning. This is opposed to taking them in an effort to be able to move with out the urge to bend over the toilet. Overall, these days, Sunday mornings are, more often than not, some of the finest hours in the week.
From time to time I am still subject to having a few too many on Friday or Saturday night. Those nights are still one of my favorite way to pass some time, but I have learned to appreciate the reasons to keep those nights few and far between.
I stole the title of this post from the great Kris Kristofferson, who wrote the best description of Sunday morning ever.