Sick as a Pig

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".