Different things in life teach us different lessons-there could be a life lesson in just about anything. For instance, you can learn a lot about yourself during a week of being sick. I did.
I learned how to be.
Just, to be. Sit, gaze out into the yard, do nothing. It sounds small, but it was significant for a recovering control freak like me.
I sat. And sat and sat and sat. It was not painful.
Painful was the coughing. You know the kind of cough where you retch at the end, screaming obscenities at the world? Where you have a barf bowl handy at all times? Where you consume so much lemon water each and every time you cough, or almost cough, that your pee is clear, and you are getting cardio going back and forth to the fridge for more lemon water, or the bathroom to expel it?
Yep. That was me.
I also learned that Ambien is an aphrodesiac. As is Nyquil.
Many of you know that I used to be wary of drug-pharmaceuticals were an issue for me. I spent many of my formative years hanging with hippies, so I was always more likely to do lines of echinacea, than amoxicillin. All that changed with Lyme Disease. Now, I'm a pill popping fiend.
I even took cough syrup last week like clockwork. All week, every 2 hours. Just so my throat could heal, so I could cough. And at night? Sky King turned me on to Nyquil-the nighttime-sniffling-sneezing-torturingyourhusband-tossing-turning-being-miserable medicine. (Isn't that the commercial?)
Basically, I was attempting to knock myself out so bad, I would be almost Michael-Jackson-Propofol catatonic. I think my last words were: make sure I keep breathing.
So, gulp would go the Nyquil (followed by lots of water because Nyquil tastes like liquefied corpses), along with my usual pile 'o pills. Including Ambien.
Ambien makes me not remember things that happen roughly 20 minutes after consumption. I go upstairs, take my meds, go through my nighttime routine. Pretty soon, I hit the hay, and maybe surf the TV for about 3.7 minutes, until sleep hits me over the head with a cartoon mallet. It's heavenly. But sometimes I have crazy conversations with Sky King. In fact, I have told him, "No talking to me once I go upstairs" because he would mock me if I said something funny. Which I tend to do. Apparently, I needed to set broader parameters. Like, "No taking advantage of your incapacitated wife in a sexual way."
I have learned I have a predisposition to respond favorably to offers of lovin' when hopped up on Ambien. And the results tend to be......ahem......exceptional. (sorry, Dad. The TITLE even said not to read this. And Mom, I know you can take it.)
Nyquil + Ambien? Super Duper Mega Favorable. As in, wake-up-without-panties-which-is-the-only-indication-I-put-out-and-have-to-piece-the-night-together-over-coffee Favorable. Sky King? Fan. BIG FAN.
:::bow chicka wow wow:::
Once I got better though, he was not able to take advantage of an invalid. So sad for him.
But last night? I got into bed, snuggled in. We chatted briefly, while our breaths slowed. Then, I jumped up, turned on the light, popped my pills.
Sky King took notice. Like a seedy college guy who sees a cute young thing at the bar get a roofie slipped to her, he knew his moment was near.
Him: Oooh. Ambien sex. Yessssss.
Him: C'mon. Ambien sex is awesome. You are extra frisky.
Me: No Ambien sex for you. Don't touch me. I'm tired.
Him: I hear you, but it sounds like, "give me 15 minutes to get sleepy then you can have your way with me."
Me: That is NOT what I said.
Him. Uh huuuuuuhh. I'm sure of it. And you aren't wearing pants.
Me: Don't touch me. I'm tired.
Him: See you in 15 minutes.
:::tic, toc, tic, toc, zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz::::
I woke up without panties again.