I know what you must be thinking: “Chawhat? Stop pussin’ out D! That ain’t a risk.” (Man, you have really bad grammar!)
But I swear to you this was.
I’m sick. I feel terrible. My stupid husband had a stupid sickness that I stupidly contracted. And now I feel like poo. My body aches so much that my toe nails hurt.
But I needed juice. My husband had a rehearsal tonight and was not going to be home until late. So if I wanted juice and didn’t want to risk infecting my friends, I was going to have to do it myself. Plus, I thought it might make me feel better to move around.
As a reminder, I’m little and live in the Windy City. And being my mother’s daughter, I’m a klutz. So falling down is actually a regular part of my life. Add into that delicious mixture being drugged up and you can understand my fear.
I also was scared that I was going to need to run up to some random neighbor’s house and freak a family out so that I could make it to a bathroom. Or that I would upchuck all over the gorgeous professional landscaping jobs that decorate my block.
But success! I felt like crap while I was walking and was so relieved to be back in my sweatpants, continuing my Glee marathon, but I didn’t upchuck, no need to run into anyone house and I didn’t fall down!
Now time to fall asleep in a NyQuil induced coma.