Hair of the Dog

I know caffeine affects me. I know that it makes my nightmares ten times worse. And I know that Dr. Pepper tastes freakin' fantastic. So when my friends were over, popping open cans, I reflected on what I knew, and then I took a can.

I was wired until midnight, and then my dreams were vivid and brutal reenactments of Game of Thrones, et al., which I haven't read since 2003. When I woke, my eyes were bright red and my entire body cried out for more sleep.

"The caffeine was a bad idea," I mumbled to Kevin, several times.

"To be fair, you knew that going into it," he said.

And if I hadn't, he had reminded me. So that was his way of saying, I told you so.

I just groaned. I knew it was my own fault, but I also knew that I had to get through the day ahead. So I grabbed another Dr. Pepper on my way out the door. No cure like the hair of the dog that bit you.