the bottomless pit of hell.

There is no worse feeling than waking up with a vodka soda-induced hangover at 8 am to the sound of garbage trucks, to the realization you slept in your clothes, to the fan blowing hot air on you, to smeared makeup all over your pillowcase, to a table full of dirty dishes from food you don't remember eating (yogurt with honey and jam and Chex Mix?), to cursing the fact that your city is currently in the midst of a heat wave and you have no AC and live on the top floor. And it's only 8 am. And it's just going to get hotter. And you're just going to feel worse. And there is no escape.