Who Wants Potato Salad?

Well, last night I got my middle child to bed, and then I came down and ate the last two spoonfulls of potato salad. I brushed and primped, getting ready to play bait for my husband who wanted some "time". He took the bait, needless to say.

So, we are really physical, not in a beating sort of way, but in an aerobic sort of way. The special moment comes for us, and so we begin to snuggle. Next thing I know, I am doubled over in pain. It intensifies dramatically and I am pacing the floor now, walking in circles, almost to tears. I bend over, and wrap myself up in a robe. Then I tear off the robe a moment later, I am just burning up. I run into the bathroom and begin to vomit. And then again. I beg to for a bath, which I rush into (with my bra still on). I beg for water, and we are now considering an ambulance. Just as we packed two of the three kids into the van in the middle of the night, I get sicker than I ever had before, and at amazing speeds. Then I am fine. We avoided the trip- it was obvious- I had a nasty case of food poisoning. this whole time, my poor husband thought he had run me through with his mighty sword. It was just the cliche of bad potato salad.

You know what that jackass said to me upon my recovery?

"Gee, I was really scared. I thought I had punctured your trachea or something."

Dream on, sweetie.