The Waitress Tried to Kill Me

Its 7:45 in the morning and I’m so tired my eyes hurt. And I don’t want to talk to anybody.

For those who know me this is not how I typically greet the morning. Last night I met friends out for some coffee. I swear on a stack of family bibles that I ordered decaf.  (FYI – a family bible is not just a “a bible.” Its an extra big bible with family history and genealogy and stuff in it. Growing up my family bible had a holographic picture of wavy haired white Jesus on the cover. Totally weird and totally captivating all at once.)

I’ll never know if it was the first cup or the second, but one of those had to have been regular coffee, maybe the sly little fox tricked me twice! Clear indications of my level of contamination include me laying wide awake in bed after 11:00pm. That’s mostly unheard of for me.  I finally gave up and convinced the hubs to come watch TV with me (what’s the point of suffering alone? I got married to avoid that, duh).  AND there’s no way, under normal circumstances that I would’ve voluntarily gotten out of bed once I was in it, it was the caffeine coursing through my veins. The last crazy weird thing was that I actually managed to stay awake for the duration of the TV watching plan.*

It still took a couple of hours and eventually I went to bed and I think I just willed myself to sleep cursing the name (which of course I’d already forgotten) of the waitress that tried to kill me. The night felt long and painful and this morning I’m paying for it.

*I developed a plan to take a Benedryl, hoping to counter the effects of the coffee while sitting and watching TV.


About nikirush

I'm still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.
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