It was the first day back to school after the Christmas break and I was sitting, hunched over, on the side of my l’il boy’s bed. He had sausage-rolled himself into his duvet and was muffling tear-filled protests through his squishy, Rufus. I knew how he felt. The last thing I wanted to do was go anywhere. I was woozy and worried I I’d pass out, my face was hot, my eyelids scratched, my skin was one big raw nerve, and the only thing I wanted was to crawl into a preferably dreamless oblivion. “Hangover” couldn’t even come close.