9 hours later...

My eyes opened and saw the clock on the floor which read 2:45 pm.
holy shit, a voice mumbled into the air. A second later, realizing it was mine. Bleary eyed and still drunk from last night, I picked myself up off the futon with no frame, which serves as a bed, and lumbered into the living room.
I fumbled for my cigarettes, pulling them from my coat pocket, and lit one up.
damn..., that same broken voice creeping back into the air.
The sky was blue, the breeze coming through the window finally felt like spring. A welcome change from the harsh winter that certainly knocked a couple years off my life. But I wasn't going out. No way in hell. That sun looked bright.

The place was a disaster area.
I don't recall making a mess...
scratching my head, smoking my cigarette, staring at the floor, then moving to brave the hot, sobering waters in the shower.