We're stuck. The Methadone, she's makin' me crazy. I tossed and turned, miserable and dizzy, until 4 A.M., when I experienced a full-out panic attack and woke Alex, acting plenty crazy, I'm sure. (He can tell you that part, if he likes. I don't remember much except being convinced I was going to die and planning auditions for his next wife--so I could approve her, you know.)
This left Alex, who has an upper-respiratory infection coming on anyway, majorly sleep-deprived. We hit the road anyway, like idiots, not realizing how bad we felt, and made it as far as the Memphis side of Nashville before coming to the unanimous conclusion that this was as far as we were gonna make it today.
(Melissa, if you're reading this, expect a call!)
So now Alex and I are prostate upon the cushy beds of a nice, newer Hampton Inn, and Bella is happily tucked into a double-bed beside me, under her purple monkey blanket and wearing her "monkey and a guy" sleep-shirt, watching "Ice Age: The Meltdown" on hotel PPV. To say we're hoping for a nap would be the understatement of the year.
Someday, I'm sure, I will see my home again. In the meantime, if you'd like to apply for the position of Alex's next wife and mom to Bella in the event of my untimely demise, and are a LESS ATTRACTIVE woman than me, go ahead and send me a resume'. (Mr. Fabulous, you are not eligible.)