Hair of the Dog?

The mother of all hangovers meant action had to be taken. A brisk walk in the park with the dog, and coffee and a bacon sandwich in the cafe. Poor birds were just tottering about on the ice, there was nowhere left for them to float.

Someone's stamped "mood" on my hand and it won't come off. My head is pounding and I'm very tired. Why do I do this to myself?

I've got plenty of plans for my two weeks off work but today is all about sleeping, finishing my book and nursing my hangover. My bed is calling.