Saturday morning was one of those mornings where you try to piece together what happened the night before in between head throbs that feel like they’re actively trying to push something through your large intestine. The night before we celebrated Nick’s brother getting engaged at a fancy dinner, then brought the party back to our house so we didn’t have to take out a personal loan to pay the babysitter.
I mustered up enough courage to open my eyes. The first thing I saw was an empty container of ice cream. Strapped around my head like a feed bag.
“Please let that be the only thing,” I said as I realized I was wearing an empty box of snickerdoodle cookies as a hat.
I scanned the room and then I saw it. My laptop. Still open. I ran over to see my credit card, steaming, lying next to it.
Oh please don’t be what I think.
Please god no.
But it was.
I couldn’t believe how irresponsible I had been. Had I learned nothing from the previous pain I had put myself through? All the torture and humiliation?
I signed myself up for the St. Patty’s Day five mile run.
|Stop smiling. You have no idea what’s about to happen to you.|
|That’s 6,628th place, for those of you keeping score.|
Maybe there was some hope. I ran to my cell phone, praying no one else knew about this.
It was too late. It was all over. I had been texting up a storm, bragging to my friends about how bad I am going to kick their asses and what huge pussies they are. Actually, because my fine motor skills were a bit sketchy only about half actually made it to my running friends. The others went to old clients and my grandma.
In between slugs of ibeuprofin and McGriddles on Saturday I tried to think of a way out of it. Fake my own death and hide out in Mexico until late March? That one sounded pretty good – a little vacation and then see who my true friends are who show up at my funeral all rolled into one brilliant little scheme. But then I feared Nick would take the life insurance money and buy some Taiwainese child bride or something and I didn’t want to risk it.
There’s no way I can back out now.
I am never drinking again. Well, until about an hour before the race, so I can forget what an awful experience it is going to be.