Sometimes. I. Sigh.

I am an idiot.

Although I was recovering from a mighty hangover, it was no excuse.

Although I had only 4 hours of sleep, it was no excuse.

Although I was giddy from exhaustion, it was no excuse.

Although I had a 'large' and then a 'small' ice lemon tea which was, by the way, sickeningly sweet, it was no excuse (sugar rush.....doink).

Although I didn't move much in that 6 hours, it was no excuse.

Although [very] knowledgeable Mel fed me with 432542546564 useless/ful facts and information, it was no excuse.

My brain could've and should've worked.

So, there I was, happily chatting with Mel on MSN. He politely and sweetly asked me for a morning call at 9ish in the a.m (hello, it was 5am when we exchanged goodnights, wha...???). Of course I knew it wasn't obligatory but I also knew it's Mel.

ME: Ur cell?
HIM: Yes, cell.

I got up early and was raring to go. I reached for my handset and.

Right. I need numbers. Which ones? And in what order?

Yes, he did text me last night and I should have his number.

But I also have the habit of deleting messages right after reading them. Ergo, numbers go too.

I remember scribbling his number on a piece of paper once.

And then I remembered that the piece of paper is lying somewhere. In my UK apartment.

I slapped my forehead with the handset and attempted to telepathically nudge him from his sleep.

Suspecting that might not work, I tried dialling 8 numbers I hope are the right ones from memory.

It rang but noone picked it up.

I hope that a 'missed call' would absolve me a tad. Provided it was the right combination of numbers in the first place.

I can only wait now for Mel to come online.

And I can only hope it's not something important he has to wake up for.

I am a dolt, I tell ya.

UPDATE: I called the wrong number. Pffft.