Undoing

It seems that this holiday has been the undoing of me.
Admittedly, if your idea of fun is crashing house parties, trampolining in the dark, making out with random guys on someone's sister's bedroom floor, avoiding peeing for 12 hours for fear of tripping over a vomiting teen or getting stampeded by a naked sauna party, catching a group of strangers playing catch with your boxers, eating cornflakes in bed after waking up in last night's eyeliner at 1pm, spending the next night clubbing until 2am in indecently small hotpants, debating whether or not you'll regret kissing jailbait the next morning, eating cheese in someone else's trackies at 3am, dancing for an hour with a group of girls in bunny ears, narrowly avoiding getting puked on by a wasted old flame, stealing people's phones and reading their dirty texts, witnessing your best mate lose their virginity a few feet away from you and ending the week hiding in someone's bedroom with a random group of kid's discussing the weeks bedroom habits, you would've found my half term ticked all of the boxes. Me? I'm bloody exhausted.
Why is it, when I have a day to myself, I always long for this sort of scandal, but when I find myself exhaustedly weaving through heaps of stoned/wasted/naked people, and puddles of vomit/blood/semen, I long for one day off?
Not only have I been out partying and clubbing every night, I've spent my days waitressing. It's been a full house every lunchtime, so I've been up to my eyeballs in cappucinos and overpriced light bites.
By the end of this week, I'm crawling into bed at the pathetic time of 11pm, but still find myself hungry for the next party. I'll never learn...