the night i almost killed us

i woke up sunday morning at 5 am, odd since i never get up before 10 if i can help it.

i had this weird cough.  it wasn't like a cold cough.  no.  it was like something had crawled down my throat and taken up residence in my larynx.  trying to dislodge it (gross word i know) i coughed and hacked but nothing worked. i decided to guzzle the flat half empty can of diet doctor pepper on my bedside table.

bad idea.

what is it about the combination of hacking up a lung and  flat pop that mades you feel like you are going to upchuck (to quote ramona quimby age 8)?  so i went into the bathroom and laid down on the cold hard floor and stayed there for a couple of hours until the alarm went off and mike got up to get ready for church.

while he was in the shower i stood in the kitchen trying to decide which would do less harm: a glass of water or making myself puke. 

and then i saw it.

the stove was on.  it had been on all night--cooking the pan i'd used to warm up our gross low carb tortillas the night before.  thank goodness the only damage was to our lungs.  we estimate i took about 50 minutes off our lives since breathing in a smoking pot all night is the equivalent of about 5 years of chain smoking.

my throat is fine today.  my pride? not so much.

Note Bien Mercedes

• they call them FIBER one bars for a reason. eating 5 per day, probably not a good idea

• to avoid depression: don't weigh yourself the morning after a late night pizza party.

• purchase gas mask. on the radio they said we are having a "yellow air" warning (have i mentioned how much i hate it here lately?)

• when you are working in a bridal store and an 18 year old girl comes in chomping on a wad of hubba bubba sporting bouffant bangs and forever 21's latest, and she tells you she wants a simple, elegant wedding gown, don't actually show her one. what she really wants is the most gawdy thing you can find: pickups, long trains, 80's style silhouettes, lady gaga inspired embellishments etc. this would do:

• the verbal sparing that takes place during the post state of the union commentary does not, apparently, compare to watching jimmer fredette drain threes.

• just because you have the urge to say "farmer blow" every time you see/say/hear the name jimmer fredette does not mean you should. one should at least try to keep up the pretense of being a lady ( in my defense, i think the yellow air might is getting to me).