Innocent until Proven Hung-over!

This is obnoxiously long, so sorry, but if you love me...you'll read it!

I must vent. To someone. Anyone... Everyone!

Last Friday night I was beginning to feel "not quite right". Not bad, but just not so good. Feeling more strange than anything else. Nothing specific that I could put my finger on exactly, I just knew I was feeling weird.

So I proceeded down my usual list of questions in my mind... Am I tired? Stressed out? Too much caffeine? Guilty conscience? Did I forget to wear a bra today? Or deodorant?? Did I forget to pick up one of the kids??" So I made my way down the list, counting my cups of coffee and the number of kids in the house, realizing I did in fact have both a bra on and a good coat of deodorant. So, this left me with no other conclusion than "tired and stressed", which were both possible. So, this being the case, I poured myself a glass of chardonnay and headed for a hot shower. But this lovely shower never happened...

I was stopped short by a change in my self-diagnosis. My "not so specific strange feeling" was becoming a bit more pin-pointed as I made my way down the hall. Then my stomach cramped into a tight ball and nausea mowed me over like a freight train. I began sweating profusely. I was aching all over and hotter than blazes. There was only one thing to do... stretch out on the cold tile bathroom floor.

I was dying. I hadn't thought of this. I was prostrate on the bathroom floor in front of the toilet, and this was my moment to depart. This was the saddest ending to my full, happy life. Then right as I was on the very brink of my agonizing death bed, I realized (rather quickly) that I wasn't in fact dying, I was just going to toss my cookies. Another option I hadn't thought of before. The stomach bug. It was awful. Absolutely horrible. (I was SOOOOOOOOOOO wishing I had not had that glass of wine half an hour before).

Then after what seemed like 2 seconds but was actually about an hour later, I heard Matt frantically calling my name from outside the door...he picked the lock (in a panicked reaction to my non-response), and came in to find me pale faced and groggy with my head resting on the edge of the toilet seat. (Bet that was a lovely sight) I have no idea what was said, I just know I somehow brushed my teeth and washed my face, then he helped me to bed...me in one arm, an empty bucket in the other. That's all I remember.

Now... this is where the "vent" part comes in. Matt let me sleep in the next morning and took the boys to the hospital to see his grandaddy. His dad was there, and they asked about me. Matt replies, "She got really sick last night". His dad asks, "Is she OK?" To which Elliot (God love him) chimes in, "Maybe she just drank too much wine." So there they all are looking at Matt for an explanation...anything to make this not true. To take away the wonder and question in their mind..."Is Abbey an alcoholic???" But not to worry...My husband will defend me and speak the truth. He will chuckle at the comment and tell them I have the stomach flu, right? More like "Yeah right!!" He just looks at his dad and says, "I hope not."

Oh Great. Just fabulous. Now I'm an alcoholic. Awesome. I can't wait until for his familyChristmas. That should be so much fun, and so not awkward. That little rumor will have had plenty of time to circulate by then, and everyone will be nice and concerned.

That is so not fair. I didn't even get the sympathy I deserved. I had to work extremely hard to fight off that bug, and I could have used some chicken soup. Or a phone call. But I guess us alcoholics are just a hopeless case.

I HAD THE STOMACH FLU!!!!!!
(Think Ross from the show Friends screaming, "WE WERE ON A BREAK!!") That's the basic feeling here.

Whew... thanks. I needed that.

Now back to life... my very non-alcoholic life.