The importance of asking the right question

‘How many beers did I drink last night?’ I thought to myself through a keg-sized headache in the wee hours of last night.

It was the wrong question. Besides, I only drank three light stubbies. This was more a sinus headache.

I dragged myself out of bed and made my way to the kitchen. It actually hurt to open my eyes so I could see where I was going.

“Where the hell are the painkillers?” I mumbled, pulling out our medicine boxes from above the fridge.

Again, it was the wrong question.

After the third box I finally found four sinus tablets, although I only had the night time tablets left.

‘Should I take one or two?’ I thought through a thumping wave of pain.

Wrong question.

I downed two tablets and settled back to bed. As my head hit the pillow I heard birds twittering outside my window and noticed the rumble of a few cars passing on the road outside.

Which was when the question I should have been asking all along occurred to me.

‘What time is it?’

Turns out it wasn’t about 1am, like I thought, but rather the dawn side of 6am. Within minutes the dark started to dissipate. So it turned out I took two (essentially) sleeping tablets just as I was about to get dressed and go to work.

While my body went through the motions today, my brain didn’t snap awake until closer to 2 this afternoon.

Let’s just say it was a long, foggy day – but at least my headache was gone.

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