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I finally made it back to work today, after coming down with the Death Plague initiated by my own child on Sunday afternoon. Fortunately, it was not as bad as what Husband got, since I recognized the signs early enough to properly dope myself up with some phenergan to mitigate the projectile vomiting. Half a phenergan makes my tongue numb, and I sleep for 10 hours. (A whole phenergan, and I wake up a week later in a strange country.) I regained consciousness Monday afternoon, just before my in-laws got to town. I was supposed to be in Small Town, at work, but since I was unconscious for 24 hours, I was still in The City. Unfortunately, I was not well enough to partake in the eating of large amounts of sushi, (celebration for both Father-in-Law's and Cora's Godfather's birthdays). Sucks, but oh well.

I drove back to Small Town last night, since I had a probate hearing at 8:30 this morning. Arrived 10 minutes early, to stand outside the courthouse for 10 minutes in the cold. Apparently allowing people to stand in the heated vestibule is too much to ask prior to the opening of the courthouse. Oh well. Back at the office now, where it's warm, and about to attack the piles of work on my desk. I'll be working late tonight to get caught up, and then I'll be on my way back to The City tomorrow afternoon in time to celebrate Husband's and my "dating anniversary."

Eight years ago, a friend called me up and wanted to come over and see my new house (I'd just moved into a new house with a roommate over Christmas). While she's over, she "randomly" gets a phone call inviting her to a party, to which she quickly replied that she was at my house, and could she bring me along? Once at the party, she and her husband rather quickly departed, leaving me with no ride home, unless I hitched a ride with someone they were very obviously trying to set me up with (and had been since their wedding, as we had been best man and maid of honor for the occasion). I'd had a few drinks at that point, so I was like, whatever, sure, I'll let that dude I barely know give me a ride home. Well, I continue shooting tequila (always bad), and end up snogging said dude on the couch at some other people's house I had just met. Classy. Once we sobered up, which was about 7 a.m., dude gave me a ride home. In his hoopdy. I think it was a 1978 LeBaron, that had belonged to his great-grandmother. (That thing was like a tank, except it didn't have air conditioning and was unlikely to start on the first few tries in winter. Oh, and I think it got 8 miles to the gallon.) I was like, uh, I thought they said this dude had a job?

Anyway, he promised to call and take me to dinner. I was like, yeah, whatever, we just got trashed and made out on your friends' couch, sure you'll call. But he actually did. And after sleeping off a hangover, I woke up that evening and he picked me up (ugh, in the hoopdy), and took me to dinner at an Italian restaurant. A week later he referred to me as his girlfriend, and I was all like, whaaa? I didn't realize we were dating exclusively. Shit. Not that I had anyone else in mind to date, but oh well. My swingin' bachelorette days came to a screeching halt.

So, the moral of the story kids, is don't drink excessive amounts of alcohol. You'll end up with a boyfriend who wants to become your husband. And then you get knocked up, like, six years later. (Oddly enough, something similar happened to my roommate. I took her to a party at my friend's house, and they ended up snogging on his couch. Except she got pregnant like four months later. Now they're married with three kids. Beware random hookups.)

Anyway, regardless, we're totally hawt. (This is an old pic from law school prom, before my hair took a turn for the goth last year.)

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