Nyquil and Yahtzee

I own a handheld Yahtzee game.

Normally, I consider it an amusing diversion for one or two rounds. But, when compelled, I have been forced to admit that I have played for several rounds before realizing that today is NOT the day in which I will beat my high score of 561.

Don't laugh. Yours isn't much better.

Sadly, I have a confession to make.

After repeated doses (at the appropriate time distance) of Nyquil, I can't put the stupid game down.

No matter that my score hasn't ever even broken 300, I am thoroughly convinced in my night-night cold medicine fog that this will be the one, the game in which I will break the bank and roll and electronically simulated perfect game.

I can't stop.

I want to. My eyes twitch from the repetive cycle of watching the spots appear and disappear in rapid succession from the little dice shapes on the readout panel of the game.

But I can't stop.

This might be the winning hand.

Finally compelled only by dizziness to put the stupid thing down, I leave somehow faintly depressed that I couldn't manage to top my old score.

Deep down I am convinced that I HAVE indeed beaten the score and that the game is lying to me with Nyquil breath and an evil laugh.

I re-read the label. 10% alcohol by volume. Does this mean per dose or for the whole container? And will I spontaneously burst into flames when I tuck in under my electric blanket?

Do my eyes resemble nothing more than Ned the Wino's after a weekend spent on a bottle of ripple?

And what is that annoying beating noise?

Oh, wait. Scratch that last one. That would be my heartbeat which I can actually hear along with the ringing in my ears.

Someone, anyone, please help me find my bed.