So, I am not much of a drinker. Meaning that most children could probably drink me under the table. Not that I am in any promoting children drinking, I'm just saying...
So anyway, on Friday evening we went out to dinner with a friend and all the kidlets. It went well. No one got hit by flying forks or food, which I think is a good thing. The food was good. The company fun, and a great time was had by all. Then we went to the Holiday in Lights. This is, for those who are not from the Cincinnati area, a really cool light display. You drive through it, so you don't even has to freeze your tookus off. Makes for an enjoyable time.
Anyway, the kids enjoyed it. The adults enjoyed it. It was nice. We went for ice cream after that, and then ran by my house to pick up clothing for Spenser, since it was decided he would spend the night there, and meds, and alcohol. Creme brulee shots as it were. So freakin yummy.
Went back to the friends house, and had a few shots of the creme brulee yumminess. Then He made me a margarita.
Really it was a lot of tequila, with just a little margarita mix, at first. Then he remixed it with some more margarita mix, so that I could drink it without gagging. Problem was that it was in a huge tumbler. So maybe like 16 ounces of potent margarita. Heh.
I drank every last bit. Probably not the smartest thing ever, but I wanted it.
Went home. Got into bed. Did not take the Ambien yet. It was only like 10:00, or 10:30. Was getting ready to read a book, when I hear the phone ring. So I went to get out of bed.
I fell square on my face. Into the doorway.
I can only imagine, I looked like I was trying to steal home, because that is how I landed. Sprawled out on my bedroom floor, in the doorway. The floor, BTW, is hardwood. And let me tell you it is called hard for a reason.
Rob hears me fall, because it was that loud. Comes running, to find me sprawled out on the floor, and making some noise. At this point he doesn't know if I have broken every bone in my body and am crying in agony, or if I have gone mental. I vote mental.
He asks if I am ok. I lift my head and start to say no, only I am laughing hysterically like a mental patient at Bellvue, on a full moon. He has a look of sheer terror on his face, because he is afraid I have yet again hurt myself.
Takes me near five minutes to pull my ass off the floor, and hobble it back to bed. Then try to explain what it was that had happened.
I landed on my left hip and right elbow. Elbow is fine. Hip is very, very sore, and I am waiting for a huge bruise to pop out.
Yep, I am an idiot indeed.