This weekend found me irritable. I don't know WHY (insert eyeroll here); but for some reason, every four weeks or so, I find myself in this state.
At any rate, it was the kind of irritable that meant whenever I looked at my dear, dear Hubby I wanted to kill him. Even though, technically he'd done nothing wrong; except, you know, continue to breathe.
God, I feel sorry for that man.
At any rate, by Sunday morning I just knew I had to get out of the house before I blew. So I took off bright and early to parts unknown.
That means I had no clue as to where I was going or where I would end up.
Before I began to drive aimlessly, I had a small bite to eat. And then I stopped at Target because I knew I needed something new to read (since the last TWO books I've picked up were ones that I've recently read; I hate when that happens) and as I was headed to the checkout lane, I also picked up a bag of GummiBears. Why? I don't have a clue. See the first paragraph.
And then the aimlessness began in earnest. While scarfing GummiBears.
I pretty much just drove - with no destination. And funnily enough, I never really arrived any where; but eventually I did find myself on the outskirts of Raleigh (a good two hours away from home) before I decided I should probably head back. But during the course of my drive I ate the whole darn bag of GummiBears. And pretty much felt slightly sick and bloated afterwards.
When I came home, I discovered that Hubby was still breathing - dammit. So I settled myself on the back porch with my new book and read for a while. Hubby, being the brilliant man that he is, wisely left me to my own devices.
But then? Then a MAJOR sugar crash happened. Out of nowhere. I began to shake. And I was STARVING. And felt faint. I looked at the clock and realized that I hadn't had any "real" food in over seven hours; longer if you discounted that "bite" (truly - it was just a bite) I'd had that morning. And then I had a sandwich. Even after shoving that sandwich into my mouth, I still felt sick. To the point that I had the cold sweats. I ended up laying on the sofa for a bit. Eventually, I began to feel human again.
There are two morals to this little story. One. A bag of GummiBears do NOT count as a meal - no matter how yummy they taste while you are scarfing them down. And two, no matter HOW much your Hubby's breathing annoys you at the moment eventually you WILL be glad he is when he brings you food because you were dumb enough to eat a whole bag of GummiBears instead of lunch.