I passed out yesterday. It was right after Benson noticed me standing very still at the kitchen counter staring at a wad of kale on the cutting board, butcher knife in hand. He said, “I don’t think you should be operating a knife right now,” and then – ploop! Down I went. And get this – he caught me! My hero!
He propped me up and wrapped my noodly arms around his neck and I came to. “M’m okay,” I slurred, and then – ploop! Out again! My body instantly went limp in his arms. It was just like Weekend at Bernie’s. He soon realized that I’d taken my muscle relaxer on a very empty stomach (free tip: don’t do that) and decided to force feed me. I lay on the couch in a stupefied state, unable to work my fingers while he broke off bits of cracker and wedged them into my mouth.
“Chew, honey,” he said, hovering over me with the cracker box in his hand. I managed to chew twice and let the rest of the cracker fall onto my chest.
“I don wanna cracker,” I mumbled.
“Let’s try to eat two crackers,” he coaxed.
I was going to try and add a funny drawing here, but while my fingers are allowing me to type right now, they aren’t allowing me to properly use a mouse. In my brain, things are sort of normal. I’m groggy, but it’s not like I’m seeing pink bunnies in my living room. The problem is these lazy muscles.
Me: Okay everybody, we’re going to walk to the bathroom.
My muscles: Yawn. Nah, we’re chillin’ here on the sofa.
Me: No really, I have to pee.
My muscles: Can’t we pee on the couch. Come onnnnnnnnnn. We’re relaxin’. See Harold? Harold’s fine layin’ here for 20 hours a day.
Me: Harold is a cat and needs to get a job. Listen, this is ridiculous. The bathroom is like RIGHT there.
My muscles: Zzzzzzzz.
Me: Nope. We’re doing this. Come on.
My muscles: We are jellyyyyyyy. We will not help you standzzzzz.
Finally I had to call Benson to help me. He half carried me, half dragged me to the bathroom and kind of tipped me onto the toilet. That was yesterday. Today is a new day, and because I now know I have to eat before I swallow pills designed to incapacitate me, things will be different. At least that’s what I’m telling myself, because here’s the thing, y’all. Benson’s company Christmas party is tonight (they probably call it a holiday party but you know what I’m saying), and I so want to go. I want to cake loads of blush upon my face and eat yummy food and drink red wine (kidding! I’ll stick to water) and catch up with his co-workers. Plus, I spent a ton of money on the dress.
Benson is slightly apprehensive about my desires, so he and I are currently in agreement that at 5:00 this evening, we will see how I feel. I think he’s going to give me some sort of sobriety test. Like yesterday, after the whole passing out incident, he wanted me to touch my nose and I couldn’t do it. My muscles wouldn’t let me. But today is better. A few hours ago I successfully put away some groceries I ordered, and I think placing a bag of almonds on the correct pantry shelf proves I am capable of talking to Benson’s boss without embarrassing anyone.
I’ve promised him I won’t talk much. People will just think I’m shy. I’ll smile all timidly at folks and give the dead fish handshake bashful girls reluctantly dole out at functions like this.
One hour to go. I’ll let you know if I win.
PS – Some of you have expressed concern about how my neck is doing and whether or not I am now a drug addict. Take heart! The fact that I’m in no pain when my pills wear off indicates that this is exactly what my doctor thought it was – a muscle spasm. But he still wants me to completely finish my meds. That means one more day of my muscle relaxers – praise the Lord! – and three more days of my other pill that I can never remember the name. And then no working out my upper body for a week once I’m off drugs.
Categories: This and That