Fountain of Knowledge

First of all, sorry to bombard you with a snippet of my story, but I think my question will work better with an example. I know that in most stories, it's best to leave out the extranious details and just focus on those things that advance plot or character develpment. (Although I personally think there's always room for a little humor and a couple of one-liners that just make people smirk, related to the rest or not).

Anyway...this is my problem. I have a bit in my book right now where I need to convey the passage of 3-4 days. I've already shown what happened the first time around, and the second, and it doesn't really change after that, but I want that conveyed as well. So I'm wondering if the below is appropriate (if you have the knowledge of what came before to draw information from), or is it too telling/going to need to be fleshed out more:

I smiled at the suggestion and tucked it and the money away. If the floaty feeling in my head held up, I wouldn’t be interested in drinking that night. It was one of those rare moments when everything seemed right in the world and the past all made sense, good things and bad.

Eight hours and two aching feet later, the heady rush had vanished. With nothing left to do with the rest of my day but stare at my apartment wall, guilt and heartbreak rushed back, colliding somewhere in my torso. I didn’t hesitate, making a beeline for the little store down the street and seeking out Loki’s evening companion recommendation.

The pattern continued for the next three days; binge drinking at night to purge my emotions, and sweet, euphoric relief the next day accompanied by polite conversation and just enough cash in my pocket to start the whole thing over again.

Day four didn’t yield the same hangover the others had, much to my dismay. It turned out that without the drum circle in my brain, the grief from the night before still lingered. The pain was still there, just not enough of it to block out everything else. Screaming headache and miserable heartache intact, I trudged my way through work, mood growing more foul with every passing minute. Four hours into my shift, with no relief in sight, I popped a handful of ibuprofen and washed it down with a diet coke.

By the time my work day ended, I had run out of silent curses and was inventing things on the spot. The poor new girl who had the misfortune of spilling milk down the front of my favorite top almost met the creator that day. No, not literally. I’m not that hotheaded. And he doesn’t usually do face-to-faces with your average schmuck.

BTW, Shameless plug, this is part of the following, and I'm trying to finish and post the chapter above today if you want to read the whole thing in context (and feedback would not be refuesed either )

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