Just call me Grace...

Today was one of those days when I never got dressed. I dressed my KID, which I considered a miracle and an accomplishment. But the rest of the day I was either napping, cooking, folding laundry, or sitting in front of the TV trying to think of something I could do with an 18 month old which wouldn't be a disaster (Scrabble - out, wrapping gifts - out, being on the computer - out.) We settled for watching too much TV and touching the low hanging Christmas Tree ornaments with our toes.

It was during one of the quieter moments that I almost went into labor.

There I was, sitting on the couch, flipping through the guide. I was not eating or drinking anything. Remember that. I WAS NOT EATING OR DRINKING ANYTHING. I was very tired, and just thinking about how nice it would be to close my eyes when I felt the spit run down the back of my throat.
I mean, I actually noticed it and thought about it.
And I sill didn't swallow.

Apparently, my body thought it would be fun to choke on my own saliva. And I hope that somehow my body had a good laugh at my expense. I ended up rushing to the bathroom, remote control still in hand. I wasn't sure if I was peeing, or throwing up, or what, but each time I coughed I tried to stifle it because I was afraid my water would break. Of course, then I still couldn't breathe, so I would just keep coughing. All I know is that I ended up sitting on the bathroom floor. I was so loud that I drew Steve away from his football game to see what the heck was wrong with me. (For the record, I yelp, wince, or cry out at least once a day in a way that makes him ask me what's wrong with me.)

It wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't felt so stupid about the whole thing. I mean, who chokes on their own spit?