Tuesday, June 17, 2008
I'm Not as Think as You Stoned I Am
7:22 PM | Posted by
Anonymous
Last night I took the children to the pool. It isn't immensely hard to sit in a lounger and read or journal, so I figured I was safe.
Now, get this picture. I'm sitting on a lounger, trying to write coherent thoughts, when I realize the meds--all of them--have decided to have a party in my bloodstream at the same time. I look at the journal I am trying to write in and realize I am now trying to read what I wrote. My thoughts wander to the necessity of driving home. Do I risk getting pulled over and arrested for DUI, or do I call home?
This is embarrassing.
Yeah, it's bad, but then it gets worse. (Oh, like you didn't see that coming.)
I look up and walking toward me is my children's diving teacher. Nice guy. We like him. He's an answer to prayer, and he is stopping in front of me.
I nod. It's the most coherent thing I can do.
Then, this nice, twenty-something guy, starts to talk to me, and he is really nice. He was telling me how the thank you note I had written when I was sober and clean had touched him. I was trying to remember what he said from one word to the next, and then it happened. His head cocked to the side a bit, and one eyebrow raised. I cringed, but the glassy-eyed stare was all I could manage. I was stoned, and he knew it.
Fainting at that moment was too much to hope for. Instead, the whistle blew. The pool was closing. Could they not have done that five minutes earlier and saved me? Noooo.......
I did drive home...without arrest, and silently, with my shame hanging on me, puddled into my perfectly formed couch indention.
When the man of my dreams came in, he asked what was wrong. I told him about the attempted conversation, and I summarized, "Rob, I looked stoned."
He laughed and said, "Jer, you are stoned."
Somehow that didn't help.
So this morning after classes, I approached said diving teacher with my head down, feeling like some girl who got caught in the wrong state of inebration at a frat party, I assured him that I had heard his very kind words and did remember them. I also apologized with explanation of the viral bronchitis, overly compatible meds, and resulting state of mind. Said diving teacher started laughing and said, "So you were stoned."
It's been a long time since a nice 20-something lifeguard made me blush. I nodded and assured him it was not a regular occurance. He laughed harder and said he knew my children too well to think it was.
There is my update. Got to go, though. I'm expecting my intervention group any moment, and I want to make sure no one else gets my indention on the couch.
Now, get this picture. I'm sitting on a lounger, trying to write coherent thoughts, when I realize the meds--all of them--have decided to have a party in my bloodstream at the same time. I look at the journal I am trying to write in and realize I am now trying to read what I wrote. My thoughts wander to the necessity of driving home. Do I risk getting pulled over and arrested for DUI, or do I call home?
This is embarrassing.
Yeah, it's bad, but then it gets worse. (Oh, like you didn't see that coming.)
I look up and walking toward me is my children's diving teacher. Nice guy. We like him. He's an answer to prayer, and he is stopping in front of me.
I nod. It's the most coherent thing I can do.
Then, this nice, twenty-something guy, starts to talk to me, and he is really nice. He was telling me how the thank you note I had written when I was sober and clean had touched him. I was trying to remember what he said from one word to the next, and then it happened. His head cocked to the side a bit, and one eyebrow raised. I cringed, but the glassy-eyed stare was all I could manage. I was stoned, and he knew it.
Fainting at that moment was too much to hope for. Instead, the whistle blew. The pool was closing. Could they not have done that five minutes earlier and saved me? Noooo.......
I did drive home...without arrest, and silently, with my shame hanging on me, puddled into my perfectly formed couch indention.
When the man of my dreams came in, he asked what was wrong. I told him about the attempted conversation, and I summarized, "Rob, I looked stoned."
He laughed and said, "Jer, you are stoned."
Somehow that didn't help.
So this morning after classes, I approached said diving teacher with my head down, feeling like some girl who got caught in the wrong state of inebration at a frat party, I assured him that I had heard his very kind words and did remember them. I also apologized with explanation of the viral bronchitis, overly compatible meds, and resulting state of mind. Said diving teacher started laughing and said, "So you were stoned."
It's been a long time since a nice 20-something lifeguard made me blush. I nodded and assured him it was not a regular occurance. He laughed harder and said he knew my children too well to think it was.
There is my update. Got to go, though. I'm expecting my intervention group any moment, and I want to make sure no one else gets my indention on the couch.
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1 comments:
LOL. Now that would have been funny.
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