One might think that, at my advanced age (ha), I would have my limits figured out, alcohol-wise. Surely someone who has been out of college for five years should know how much to drink to have fun and how much will fill me with nauseous nauseous regret the next day. Unfortunately, one would be wrong. Several times a year I gleefully leap across that boundary line and end up with a pounding, aching head, a dry mouth, and an overall feeling of sluggishness and stupidity. But usually also some good memories. So it’s a trade-off?
Although I have not yet learned how to not get hangovers, I have picked up a few tricks over the years. When I know that an event is coming up at which I am likely to act like an idiot, several days in advance I make some of these cheddar black pepper biscuits and freeze them. Then, the next day, all my husband has to do is stick them in the oven, get me some coffee/a giant glass of water/a cold compress, and fry some eggs and bacon. Then we make some biscuit sandwiches with hot sauce – I like sriracha, he likes chipotle. It makes us feel more human and less like something the cat dragged in. That way, we’re ready to weather whatever scandals the party has produced instead of just groaning and going back to bed (my other patented hangover cure).
