35 in a 25 Zone

Last week I caught a horrible stomach flu, the kind that had me falling asleep on the bathroom floor next to the toilet. So glamorous. On Tuesday afternoon I was finally keeping food down and hoped I was on the mend. I desperately needed to finish putting together some Christmas gifts so I headed up to Jenni's house. But not long after I started feeling horrible again. I knew I needed to get home. And quick.

My head was spinning and my stomach was nauseous. I focused all my energy on getting home in one piece. But about three minutes into the drive, I saw that unmistakable view of flashing lights in my rear view mirror. I pulled the car over.


The first thing the police officer said to me was, "Did you know you were going 35 in a 25 zone?" And to be honest, no I didn't. I was too busy trying not to pass out, thankyouverymuch. And before he could even ask for my license and registration, I ripped opened the car door and threw up on his shoes. Yup, I really did. I quickly apologized, trying to explain that I had the flu (like he didn't have first-hand knowledge of that fact). He told me to just forget about it and go home. He walked back to his car, not bothering to give me a ticket because, really, that would have just added insult to injury, don't ya think?

So I went home. And stayed home, close to the bathroom, for the rest of the day.