The Trouble with Strolling Down Memory Lane with a few glasses of Port courtesy of your ex boyfriend; is that it quickly leads into self pity lane. Where you tend to wallow for a few hours, troubling deaf heaven with your warm tears, singing along passionately to “Do Right woman” only to wake up in the morning with eyes like a raccoon and a headache of tsunami proportions, to then look out the window at the most beautiful sunshine, which makes all your gloomy self indulgence the night before seem even more silly.