Disclaimer: If you have a weak stomach – do not read. If you would ever like to see me naked – do not read if grossness would change your mind.



I threw up.

Easy as can be. None of that staring into the porcelain God misery waiting for the gagging to start. I spit a bit and realized how much better my stomach felt.

Then I realized I had no idea where the fuck I was. It was dark, cool things pressed my body, and the last sounds of the toilet flushing were behind me.


Oh right. I’d woken up at midnight-thirty and decided I needed to go to the bathroom. I’d felt a little green and rocky.

As best I could tell, I had, in a major class act, passed out on the toilet like Elvis, fallen on the floor between the toilet and the tub, and proceeded to yak. On myself. The tub. And the floor.

I sat up, turned on the light, surveyed the damage. Got paper towels and started swiping up the mess.

I wondered for a moment if I was dead. Because in the middle of the night when you’ve opened your eyes after falling on the bathroom floor, hey, anything is possible.

I wondered if I should call someone. Alex had slept through the scufuffle (Is too a word, spellcheck). It was snowing outside, everyone I knew was sleeping. Except one.

I thought about the Dude and man I wanted to pick up the phone and call him. He was awake at work. I measured the level of tragedy in my mind. If I was truly in trouble, I knew he would come to me. Was I in THAT much trouble? I thought about calling and waking my mom to come over in the cold and snowy night. Was I in THAT much trouble? I thought of all the possibilities.

I felt around to see if I was hurt. I think I smacked my forehead when I went down. But I didn’t seem dizzy or stupid or in danger.

I went back to bed. Emailed my mom that I’d gotten sick. Then rested restlessly the rest of the night.

I stayed home from work, considered going to the doctor, passed on that in favor of sleeping the entire day.

It was another one of those times that I realized, MAN I’m on my own. And MAN I’m having to learn when to ask for help and when to suck it up. I was determined to go to work today, until I realized getting out of bed wasn’t so much possible. Which apparently is a prerequisite for actually going to work.

I think I probably should have asked for help in the middle of the night – but there wasn’t anything to be done.

It’s just one more damn surreal lesson in this whole growing up thing.