+
=
Which leads to....
SO MUCH TROUBLE.
Especially when you go to all the trouble of CALLING and ASKING if you can have a drink...he says you can only have one...and you wind up having...oh, ya know--like, 4 or 5 shots and a half a Bahama Mama.
Then, you're so far beyond screwed it's not even funny. Or, at least, I was.
Because when he's an hour away, working on his project car....
And receives a phone call from a good friend of mine, asking for directions to our house...
Because I'm at work so drunk I can't give her directions...
And she has to call her fiance to come get both of us...
Yeah, it was flat ugly. Fortunately for me, I have a good man. He came straight home, and he didn't even really comment that night on anything. He crawled in bed with me and held me, just like any other night. In my stupor, I asked him if he was going to kill me.
He said yes.
All matter of fact like that. My response?
I fell asleep.
Later, after I was thoroughly spanked, I tried to convince him that I was, in fact, dead, that he had killed me, and it was only my ghost in need of cuddling. But, I did learn a few things...
1) Drinking in general, is, for me, just not a good plan. I don't hold alcohol well. (Not that I'll get the chance. I'm not even allowed to ask for, look at, or SMELL alcohol of ANY kind until May.)
2) Saying 'ok, I'll only have one', and then having more is considered two offenses: lying and direct, blatant disobedience.
3) The excuse "Shots are small, it takes more than one to make a 'drink'" is not acceptable.
4) Being hungover does not count as appropriate "trouble", as miserable as the experience is.
5) Already being in trouble does not excuse Attitude. (Though it really should. He *whistled* around the house the next morning. My head was splitting in two. I wanted to wring his neck for it, but didn't want to risk further ire....again, "At least I didn't.....___; I only said ___" is not a valid excuse.)
Now. The question is, will I actually *remember* all these things the next time I go to do something he's limited....?
I've mentioned before that I have a little messenger. He runs from my butt to my brain, and let's me know when I've had enough to curb my temper and stubborn will. His name is Kypr. Sometimes, he makes it, sometimes he doesn't. This particular time, it took him awhile, and he had quite a bit to say...
Here's hoping he left a written copy somewhere for my brain to find, should it be feeling forgetful...
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