Tuesday morning, I was woken up by two freezing cold feet pressed to my legs. Even through my fleecy pjs, those things were glacial.

"Kill me," Priya moaned. Her face was puffy, her hair a tangled mess.

I cracked my eyes open and ice picks burrowed into my brain. "I'll pay you five bucks to make coffee."

"I'll see your five and raise you twenty," she said.

Not enough. We lay there in mutual hangover misery. I barely mustered the energy to leave another ...