We're back! And once again, I'm full up with stories...from fevers and flu and strep throat, to HOLY JUNK THAT PLACE IS EXPENSIVE. But because we both know the kind of tales I'm capable of, and the kind of humor (potty) you seem to enjoy, I'll just go with the one where I peed myself on the plane.
That's right, folks.
On account of a sneeze.
It all began with a caught cold the eve before departure.
Which turned into a migraine the following morning.
Which turned into nausea and extreme sensitivity to light, sound, and MOST ESPECIALLY A FOUR AND A HALF HOUR PLANE RIDE HOME.
Which turned into eyes closed, in through the nose~out through the mouth, one finger in the air silent shushing of anyone who might tap my arm or think to distract me from clutching at the vomit bag.
Which turned into the slightest movement=waterfall of puke.
Which turned into a full bladder and a sleeping daughter draped across my lap.
Which turned into a complete inability to respond with the requisite knee jerk leg clamp in case of rogue sneeze.
Which turned into "ACHOO!"
Which turned into, "Aw, hell."...and two and a half hours still remaining on the flight.
It was good times, friends. Good urine soaked times. Fortunately, the cushion was pleather and my pants were absorbent. And with all the stench going on in an airplane, the smell of tinkle could hardly raise an eyebrow.
Anyway, I don't know why I thought it wise to share this humiliation. Except for the fact that I'm a giver and figured it outranked a box of chocolates and stuffed animal on this Valentines day of burnin' love.
What? You got ME something, too? Oh, you're so sweet...you shouldn't have! (rip, shred, tearing at the wrapping)
A book? How nice! Wait, what are Kegels?
(angry slit eyes)
You're dead to me.