Earlier this evening I was sitting on my couch and reading something, when I laughed.
And my chest hurt. Not in a heart-attack-y kind of way, but in a muscular kind of way.
At first I didn't know why. But it came to me: I puked so much on Sunday morning (after a hell of a Saturday night) that I still hurt, a day and a half later, indirectly.
Thank you, booze. I needed that.
Also: I really have to fucking grow up.