Crack Kills

So yesterday, I spent the better part of the day fumigating cleaning the house.  Now that the prodigal son and his entourage have departed, I have lifted my ban on cleaning.  It's been almost 24 hours since I cleaned part of the house and IT'S STILL CLEAN.  Bizarr-o.  I was cleaning weird things - like the pantry, the fridge, the silverware drawer, the spice cabinet  - why boys feel compelled to rummage these areas and destroy them is beyond me.  But they do.  I also went through the linen closet and refolded everything in there.  I've grounded myself from purchasing kitchen gadgets, spices, tea and also sheets, blankets and hand towels.  We are pretty well set for life on all of these items.

Any who - I usually use an environmentally friendly type of cleanser - something like vinegar or some green shit that some company makes.  But yesterday I felt I REALLY needed something STRONG - you know - something that REALLY made the house reek of cleaning in progress.  So I trapsed down to the basement and found this 55 gallon drum of Pinesol I'd purchased about 12 years ago at Sam's Club.  It was perfect and just enough left for me to get the kitchen really clean.  And off I went - cleaning and scrubbing and throwing shit away and my God but it was liberating! 

We were set to see some friends in the evening - but I had a bit of a dilemma with the brunette - she was coming back to our house after going to a pond party (which is a horrible idea on so many different levels, but I am trying NOT to be over-protective of her) - so I wasn't sure I could make it to see my friends.  Who I miss terribly and enjoy spending time with and yet never seem to find time to see them.   Well, late in the afternoon, I decided to drink a beer.  And it was yummy.  So I had another.  And then the brunette needed to be driven to the pond party.  Could she drive, while I rode in the car?  Sure. She has a restricted license - let's go! 

But as she got out of the car at the party, I was like, "Wait.  Who will drive me home?  Because all of a sudden - I am drunk and cannot drive."  Seriously.  I didn't mention it to her - I just hopped in the seat and concentrated very intently on driving that car home.  Thank God it wasn't far.  And I'm like - What.The.Fuck.  I'm a professional - why am I so fucking drunk after two cans of beer?  So I figured I must need food and ate some crackers.  And some more crackers.  And I drank another couple of beers.  And by this time - I cannot even walk.  Seriously.  I've had 4 beers and I'm so drunk I cannot walk. 

I texted with the brunette's BFF's mom - she agreed to take the girls for the night instead of me having them so I could go see my friends and hang out.  And the husband was headed up to get in the shower and I'm all, "Husband - I am so drunk I cannot walk."  And he's all, "WTF?"  And I'm all, "I know right?" 

So we decided we better eat.  And somehow I cooked dinner - how - I will never know because I was about as drunk as I could ever remember.  And then it hit me - the headache from hell.  I downed some pain reliever.  And drank some iced coffee.  NOTHING would kill this headache.  I decided to sit down for a bit and watch a movie with the blonde (some werewolf, vampire love story shit that absolutely bored me to tears and BTW did NOTHING for my headache - bite her already and get on with it - Jesus).  Still this headache does NOT cede the battle.  It's winning.

So off to bed I went at 9 p.m.  No friends.  No laughter.  No fun.  Just me and me trying to give birth to my brain through my eyeball. 

When I woke up this morning, I felt fine.  Until I got into the kitchen and then that headache started in AGAIN.  And that's when it hit me.  - That blasted Pinesol.  It had some crystals floating in the bottom of it:

See them?  Floating?  It wasn't fucking pinesol after all - or maybe it was 12 years ago - but NOW it was crystal meth.  It had to be.  And that would explain why I was so drunk after 4 beers.  I wasn't drunk at all - I was stoned out of my fucking mind on crystal meth.  Which explained not only the headache from hell, but the pin-sized pupils and the racing heart.  I honestly thought the husband would have to take me to the ER.  And as I lay in bed, I practiced dialing 911 on my own - wondering how my family would react when the ambulance showed up - would the husband turn them away, telling them they had the wrong house? God I hope not - because I was pretty certain I was going to die.  But I didn't.  But I damned near did.

And now, about 24 hours later - my hands look like this:

And I just looked in the mirror.  And I look like this:

CRACK KILLS.  I DO NOT LIE PEOPLE AND I CAN'T EVEN MAKE THIS SHIT UP.

BTW - the Pinesol?  It's in the recylcing bin now.  It's not safe to have around.