On Being Poisoned.
So, V nearly killed me the other day.
First, she has been making orange Kool-Aid™ lately.
She also tends to leave food half finished out on the counter.
I, like the cat, treat any untended left overs as fair game.
So, when I woke Saturday morning and staggered into the kitchen, I saw a half full glass of orange Kool-Aid™.
I generally don't function well until I get food and water in me.
So I had no real reason to suspect that it was anything but Kool-Aid™ until the second swallow, which was when my throat burst into searing pain.
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The day before, people had been out to look at the central air. One of the guys had asked for some dish soap to help him find a leak. Our dish soap is orangey in color...
Needless to say, I will never trust a drinking glass, half full, left on the counter again.
I still feel the pain in my stomach muscles as I tried, in vain to puke up the contents of the drinking glass. What made it worse was the casual voice of V, from the bedroom, asking every minute or so if I was okay, between the attempted volleys of bile and orangey freshness.
Thus, for the rest of the day, I wasn't feeling my best. V, when she was convinced that I was in jeopardy as opposed to my normal little cough at drinking something too fast, raced to the Internet to see if I needed to go to a doctor. She may have even only glanced at her email first.
She was greatly relieved that her quick research revealed that I probably wasn't going to die, and indeed, I would soon be farting bubbles for her enjoyment. Dr. Mengela would have been proud of her bedside manner.
First, she has been making orange Kool-Aid™ lately.
She also tends to leave food half finished out on the counter.
I, like the cat, treat any untended left overs as fair game.
So, when I woke Saturday morning and staggered into the kitchen, I saw a half full glass of orange Kool-Aid™.
I generally don't function well until I get food and water in me.
So I had no real reason to suspect that it was anything but Kool-Aid™ until the second swallow, which was when my throat burst into searing pain.
--------------------------
The day before, people had been out to look at the central air. One of the guys had asked for some dish soap to help him find a leak. Our dish soap is orangey in color...
Needless to say, I will never trust a drinking glass, half full, left on the counter again.
I still feel the pain in my stomach muscles as I tried, in vain to puke up the contents of the drinking glass. What made it worse was the casual voice of V, from the bedroom, asking every minute or so if I was okay, between the attempted volleys of bile and orangey freshness.
Thus, for the rest of the day, I wasn't feeling my best. V, when she was convinced that I was in jeopardy as opposed to my normal little cough at drinking something too fast, raced to the Internet to see if I needed to go to a doctor. She may have even only glanced at her email first.
She was greatly relieved that her quick research revealed that I probably wasn't going to die, and indeed, I would soon be farting bubbles for her enjoyment. Dr. Mengela would have been proud of her bedside manner.