I don't often drink these days. A year or so ago, I spent my Saturday nights dancing away in uncomfortable shoes sipping vodka red bulls, and two years ago I spend both my Friday and Saturday nights drunkenly dancing in clubs after having too many sambuca shots - which inevitably lead to years of spending my Sunday's in bed hungover, usually trying to figure out whether food will make me vomit or be an incredible hangover cure. Usually, I wound up eating a lot of unhealthy food, going in and out of sleep, and binge-watching crap on my laptop. The day is usually both hideous and genius.

I've got to admit, these days the occasional night out is plenty for me, and I don't particularly miss puking in a skanky toilet because I've partied a little too hard, even if the girls you meet in the toilets, are probably nicer than anyone you will ever meet soberly - but I do miss the morning or day after the night before.

Now, obviously, I don't miss the hangover - there is always a point during the hangover which I get very dramatic and wonder if I'm going to die. Doing so many shots that I see my life flash before my eyes at 4 pm the next day is hardly missable. What I mean is I've missed the day which the hangover is an excuse for.

It becomes completely acceptable to stay in the PJ's without showering until late the next evening, maybe - there is something so gross yet completely wonderful about this.

For the first Sunday in ages, I decided to have a hangover day, without having a drop of alcohol the night before. I stayed in my PJs, hardly moved from my bed, ate all the junk food and watched Gilmore Girls on repeat. I allowed my mind to not think more than the obvious debate of shall I go and pee risking losing my comfy space.

And, oh dear lord it was delightful.

My sister even came and asked me if I went out the night before - it felt great to tell her no.
Who knew I non-alcohol induced hangover could be so good for the mind?
Occasionally there is something great about being a bit of a slob.