Wineadryl hangovers are no joke.

Last night, to celebrate the end of yet another illuminating week teaching the young fertile minds of the north Texas music education world, and also to celebrate the arrival of another blessed PAYDAY, I decided to forego our usual baked salmon dinner and splurged on a big Chilean Sea Bass fillet at the fish counter. Verdict: SO GOOD. I did a simple olive oil, salt, pepper and garlic powder rub, then baked in the oven at 450 degrees for 15 minutes and it came out like a dream. I also accompanied with a giant heap of roasted broccoli, but that's neither here nor there. Oh! And I also replicated this salad we got last week at a nice restaurant in town: mixed greens with a simple vinaigrette (I just did balsamic, honey, salt and pepper), topped with sliced green apple, roasted walnuts and goat cheese. Incredible.

Anyway, this was all to tell you that I treated myself to a glass of white wine with dinner, since it seemed to call for it. And then, about an hour after we finished eating, I decided that the allergies that I had been battling for the past two days was no longer something I wanted to deal with. Despite taking a slightly increased dosage of my usual regulating asthma/allergy medication, I still felt like I had rolled around in giant piles of pollen all day and was sneezing my brains out. So I took a Benadryl.

Fast forward to an hour later, and I was lying in bed only partially conscious, convinced that I was hearing didgeridoos coming from the kitchen. It was just the hum of our ceiling fan.