Once upon a time in a land far away (Chicago, 1996) I went to a New Year’s Eve party and had way too much to drink. Eventually I decided to go home, but rather than go to my home to sleep-off my drunken stupor, I went to Kelly’s home (we were dating at the time and she left said party hours beforehand). To be honest, the details of that night remain a bit foggy to this day, but what I do know for sure is that at some point shortly after my arrival I puked in Kelly’s bed.
Yes, puked.
It goes without saying that she had every right to dump my sorry ass out to the street and never again speak a word to me. To her credit, and to my benefit, the story has played out differently. Many years later we are still together.
Clearly, that evening was not one of my shining moments and every once in a while, I am reminded of my amateur-like performance.
While my days of ‘celebrating’ the passing of one year to the next have long ago been curtailed, last night I once again found myself facing conflict deep in the bowels of my inner body. While there was no alcoholic bender to blame this time, something from the events of last night did not sit well with my stomach and GI track. My otherwise stomach of steel raising the while flag of mercy as it attempted to digest the evening’s input: beer, wine, tater-tots, chicken, beef, salad, green beans, chocolate brownies, and peanut butter cookies (not necessarily in that order).
Something had to give.
As so it was, at 12:34am I roused from my sleep, fearing that once again, puking was imminent. This time however I was much more chivalrous as I got myself into the bathroom and managed to place all my ‘deposits’ squarely into a garbage can.
Happy New Year.
Older and wiser, I now better appreciate the need to maintain a tidy dwelling than I had in years past. Accordingly, the entire episode, less the smell (hey, I’m not miracle worker) is contained neatly in the triple redundant grocery bag pictured below.
Contents of last night’s dinner
As a foreshadow to this newly arrived year, I’m not sure how to interpret the events of the night. On the one hand, puking is never good. Was this merely a precursor to more gut-wrenching moments to come ? Or, do I take solace in how I calmly managed the situation into one wherein Kelly got a good laugh out of the whole event by asking “Do you want me to take a picture for the blog?” while I was sitting on the toilet in misery?
Time will tell I suppose.
Wandering With Purpose 