SOCIAL EATING
And another thing:
I can't win! Either I eat alone too often, or I eat socially too often! I can't seem to hit it just right. I say this because I caught a tremendous Spring cold this weekend, and it hit me like an Acme anvil. Except that I'm more than two very colorful dimensions so I'm having a bit of trouble recovering.
Friday night I was at a birthday dinner but let's be honest: this dinner was all about the soup course, the soup being alcohol. But I did eat, and when I did I ate by sticking my fork in other people's plates and sharing. I love to share! I love to share molten chocolate cake and ice cream, and linguine, and whatever you're having! And well, I suppose I also shared, in the process, some kind of virus which resulted in my body falling apart on Saturday.
I woke up thinking I was just hung over. I felt a slight physical malaise, but certainly not bad enough to skip the potluck barbecue to which I had been invited. I mean: potluck barbecue! And not only that: it was an opportunity to see some old college friends and some newer friends of college friends who I reconnect with about three times a year in spite of how much I genuinely like them. I was really excited! I brought an abundance of goodies from Trader Joe's, and was ready to make a real day of it. I ate spicy jerk chicken wings with my bare hands, and I ate a tremendous sausage in a bun with mustard with my bare hands, and I ate communal cornbread and chips and hummus with my bare hands and when I think about it now everyone was eating and cooking and touching food with their bare hands and well, I was having a pretty great time but I started to get chilly, and as I layered on my friends' sweaters I realized I was getting really really chilly even though I should not have been what with all the sweaters. And I ached. Hardcore. And it didn't feel like a hangover, and I stopped having a great time and started to feel TERRIBLE. Fortunately I'd been at the potluck for a bunch of hours, so making my exit wasn't the worst thing in the world, but I was bummed to leave while things were still, literally, cooking. Those things being the longest strip of lamb sausage I have ever seen.
I went home and went to bed at approximately 8pm. Total night sweats fever. Body aches and chills. I'd remembered seeing a report about meningitis on the news earlier in the week and had a mild panic attack at 11:15pm when I woke up, but I brought myself down and called my brother to see if he would bring me Tylenol and an Orange Gatorade (my two favorite things for a fever, which I refuse to keep in stock for myself, as I am an optimist), but, unfortunately, he was already in bed himself, recovering from the night before. So I was really not feeling good. Really really sick. Bad achy fever chills sick. This happens to me about twice a year. And...I needed a little help. My roommate was home, but I'm pretty sure she was having sex with her boyfriend, so I didn't want to interrupt her by asking for a Tylenol. So I did a mildly foolish, but completely feverish thing: I texted the ex, who lives in my neighborhood. It said: "r u in the hood?" I was thinking, if he were in the neighborhood on a Saturday night at 11:15pm, maybe he'd be up for bringing me a Tylenol and Orange Gatorade! Oh, in case you were wondering: I am kind of an asshole. Looking at it now, it reads like a booty call. Which it was not. The ex did not text me back, which I interpreted two ways: he DID interpret my text as a booty call, and did not dignify it with a response, OR, he was preoccupied and could not text back (ie he was having sex with a gorgeous blonde, which is what I wish for him, always).
In any case, I made it through the night without any help. Today was better. And this afternoon, during my brother's birthday brunch with my family (more social eating, many shared dips and spreads), the ex texted back: "i was at A and B's wedding." I wrote back, "oh! hope it was great! i was really sick and was gna ask 4 a favor. inappropriate." To which he replied: "Ok. hope you're feeling better. " And I wrote "yeah. thanks. sorry."
Oop. Ack. Eek. It's called a Learning Curve for a reason. There are peaks, and there are dips. Just don't double dip, and remember to wash your hands.
I can't win! Either I eat alone too often, or I eat socially too often! I can't seem to hit it just right. I say this because I caught a tremendous Spring cold this weekend, and it hit me like an Acme anvil. Except that I'm more than two very colorful dimensions so I'm having a bit of trouble recovering.
Friday night I was at a birthday dinner but let's be honest: this dinner was all about the soup course, the soup being alcohol. But I did eat, and when I did I ate by sticking my fork in other people's plates and sharing. I love to share! I love to share molten chocolate cake and ice cream, and linguine, and whatever you're having! And well, I suppose I also shared, in the process, some kind of virus which resulted in my body falling apart on Saturday.
I woke up thinking I was just hung over. I felt a slight physical malaise, but certainly not bad enough to skip the potluck barbecue to which I had been invited. I mean: potluck barbecue! And not only that: it was an opportunity to see some old college friends and some newer friends of college friends who I reconnect with about three times a year in spite of how much I genuinely like them. I was really excited! I brought an abundance of goodies from Trader Joe's, and was ready to make a real day of it. I ate spicy jerk chicken wings with my bare hands, and I ate a tremendous sausage in a bun with mustard with my bare hands, and I ate communal cornbread and chips and hummus with my bare hands and when I think about it now everyone was eating and cooking and touching food with their bare hands and well, I was having a pretty great time but I started to get chilly, and as I layered on my friends' sweaters I realized I was getting really really chilly even though I should not have been what with all the sweaters. And I ached. Hardcore. And it didn't feel like a hangover, and I stopped having a great time and started to feel TERRIBLE. Fortunately I'd been at the potluck for a bunch of hours, so making my exit wasn't the worst thing in the world, but I was bummed to leave while things were still, literally, cooking. Those things being the longest strip of lamb sausage I have ever seen.
I went home and went to bed at approximately 8pm. Total night sweats fever. Body aches and chills. I'd remembered seeing a report about meningitis on the news earlier in the week and had a mild panic attack at 11:15pm when I woke up, but I brought myself down and called my brother to see if he would bring me Tylenol and an Orange Gatorade (my two favorite things for a fever, which I refuse to keep in stock for myself, as I am an optimist), but, unfortunately, he was already in bed himself, recovering from the night before. So I was really not feeling good. Really really sick. Bad achy fever chills sick. This happens to me about twice a year. And...I needed a little help. My roommate was home, but I'm pretty sure she was having sex with her boyfriend, so I didn't want to interrupt her by asking for a Tylenol. So I did a mildly foolish, but completely feverish thing: I texted the ex, who lives in my neighborhood. It said: "r u in the hood?" I was thinking, if he were in the neighborhood on a Saturday night at 11:15pm, maybe he'd be up for bringing me a Tylenol and Orange Gatorade! Oh, in case you were wondering: I am kind of an asshole. Looking at it now, it reads like a booty call. Which it was not. The ex did not text me back, which I interpreted two ways: he DID interpret my text as a booty call, and did not dignify it with a response, OR, he was preoccupied and could not text back (ie he was having sex with a gorgeous blonde, which is what I wish for him, always).
In any case, I made it through the night without any help. Today was better. And this afternoon, during my brother's birthday brunch with my family (more social eating, many shared dips and spreads), the ex texted back: "i was at A and B's wedding." I wrote back, "oh! hope it was great! i was really sick and was gna ask 4 a favor. inappropriate." To which he replied: "Ok. hope you're feeling better. " And I wrote "yeah. thanks. sorry."
Oop. Ack. Eek. It's called a Learning Curve for a reason. There are peaks, and there are dips. Just don't double dip, and remember to wash your hands.
posted by Megan at 12:44 AM
3 Comments:
Wait, was the brother who blew off his feverishly ill sister the one for whom said sister bought the expensive congnacs?! If so, next year he should get a bottle of Ripple and a Slim Jim.
hold on, crabbydad. a bottle of ripple and a slim jim would make an awesome present!
and my brother is tops...(wouldn't want all five of my readers to think otherwise).
No wonder you are so smart, sometimes. lol.
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