|My current best friend....|
I rarely get sick just once in a season. My pattern seems to be get sick, vanquish the illness with a barrage of homeopathic teas, tinctures and incantations and then force everyone I know to listen to me smugly recount how I didn't have to go to the doctor.
Then, several weeks later, I get sick again. It's usually something completely different and this is exactly what happened the day before yesterday. My self-diagnosis is the stomach flu. Colorful details gladly recounted on request.
Lying in bed between vomiting and fits of shivering, I recalled something from Seth's and my past that should have been included in a recent post entitled "The Two Stupidest People On Earth Live in Our House."
Some of you may recall our ridiculous hijinks including endangering Seth's safety by having him pose coyly directly beneath the "spear of death," one bad ass icicle with evil intentions that clung to our roof but really wanted nothing more than to crack Seth's skull open like a coconut.
Well, here's something way stupider. So stupid, in fact, that I seriously considered withholding this info because, as a result, you may decide never to read this blog again.
Please don't let that happen. Allow my stupidity to be your entertainment. Our children do.
After all, someone has to be this stupid. Just be glad it isn't you.
About a thousand years ago before the boys were born, Seth and I would enjoy an occasional weekend up in the Adirondacks. We'd sit and stare out at Lake Placid, spending our days doing not much of anything while others hiked, fished and pedaled clunky rental bikes hither and yon.
When Seth and I were first introduced a few years prior, in fact only a minute or so into our relationship, I asked him whether, if we ever went on vacation together, would he be interested in hiking, fishing or renting bicycles. This was specifically to cut to the chase regarding his potential as husband material.
His horrified expression made it clear that he was a lazy woman's potential husband. We could now proceed with the courtship.
He, like me, likes to sit. Just sit. So still in fact, that people occasionally mistake us for weird looking mannequins or modern art. When they approach to tweak our noses or stare into our eyes, we barely react so committed are we to doing nothing when on vacation.
We are pretty sure that the curious think we are practicing the ancient Indian technique of slowing down our breathing and heartbeat so as to appear dead. This is fine with us as long as they leave us the hell alone.
In any case, one evening during a lovely weekend of feigning comas on the lawn, we randomly chose a restaurant at which to dine. I had some sort of pasta with pesto and Seth had his stand-by of linguine with oil and fresh garlic,big salads and vino. It was delicious.
A couple of hours later, we both had food poisoning. It was horrific and intense. We took turns puking and spent the night, lying on the cool bathroom tile curled around the toilet, moaning -- certain that we'd be dead by morning.
Well, we survived. Although we were weak and sore and unable to eat but by the early evening, we both felt a lot better and were, miraculously, hungry again.
Guess where we went to dinner.
Hard to believe but true.
We went back to the same restaurant. Our brilliant reasoning was that lightening wouldn't strike twice and, besides, we'd order something different.
|You went back to the same place??? You idiots!!!!!!!!!|
I don't remember exactly what we ate on the second night but it was delicious. We went home happy and full and about two hours later, were back puking and pressing our faces to the cool tile as we, once again, were certain we would not last the night.
To this day, we don't know what possessed us to return to the scene of the crime.
Although already well-known for lapses of judgement, this transcended any previous idiocy by a huge margin. The next day, we didn't stick around long enough to see the headline of the daily paper which might have said something about large quantities of patrons dropping dead after eating at a local restaurant. Either that or "Stupidest Couple on Earth Spotted Twirling Spaghetti at Killer Restaurant for Second Night in a Row. How Stupid Are They??"
My only regret is that there are no monetary rewards for stupidity. If there were, Seth and I would be very rich. We'd probably drive back up there to prove that lightening couldn't strike three times......