Sick. Sick, sick, sick. Sick as a pig (I've never actually
understood that particular phrase, but I've always wanted to use it,
ever since I read it in Harry Potter).
So one of my best
friends got married on Saturday--YAY!! Shoutout to her. She's
awesome. Love you and stuff. Anyway, her reception was in Park City.
This is kind of how our conversation went on Saturday afternoon:
Husband: "Hey, sweetie, what's the address of the reception again?"
Me: "Um....It's at the Canyons Resort in Park City..."
H: "It is? Bring me the invitation."
Me: (brings invitation)
H: (looks at it) "Oh it's at the Canyons Resort. I know where that is."
Me: (confident in this statement, forgets all about it)
Fast
forward to later that evening when we are actually driving down to Park
City. We figured we had ages and ages and ages, so we stopped at Olive
Garden. Delish. Seriously. And if you haven't tried their Chocolate
Almond Amore, you MUST try it. (Just make sure to order it virgin. I almost didn't once and it was almost really bad.)
Anyway,
so after dinner, we kept driving. And driving and driving and
driving. And suddenly, we realize how different everything looks when
it's dark outside. Plus, it had been quite a while since Husband had
actually been there. So...we got lost. And it was getting close to the
time when the reception would be ending, and I was getting a little
panicky. But eventually we figured it out. And she looked beautiful,
and we met her new husband, and I got to re-connect with her and her
family, and look like a crazy fool while I danced with my sister.
And then we left. We got some caffeine on the way home to help us keep awake (totally helped).
We got home around 11:30 probably. And sometime between 11:30 and
waking up the next morning, I came down with something. Something
nasty that started in my throat and settled right in the middle of my chest. And that's the story of how I finally got to use the phrase "sick as a pig".
