Drunk Me Ordered Forty Pizzas to My Own Address

I want to be clear that I do not usually drink like this, and I have not since. But one bad night, after one bad breakup, I made a series of decisions with my phone that I have no memory of at all.

I woke up around nine the next morning to knocking. I opened the door to a delivery driver holding a stack of pizza boxes taller than the doorframe. He said, cheerfully, "First eight of forty." I said, "Forty what." He said, "Pizzas." I said a word I will not repeat.

Apparently drunk me had gotten it into his head that he was hosting a party. A big one. He had opened the app and ordered forty pizzas, with careful and varied toppings, to be delivered to my own address, and had prepaid the entire thing including a generous tip, which is the only genuinely thoughtful thing drunk me has ever done.