Pardon My Sobbing

Last night was a horrible night.

A little background: Thursday night I failed a test miserably, and I started a good-sized fight with Eli and spent Friday pretty convinced that he'd be choosing the nearest exit any moment (that's still up in the air... check back later). I ate horrid mexican food for lunch and spent much of the afternoon throwing up. Coming home, I threw in the towell and stopped for beer and dinner. When I got to the checkout line and looked into my little basket, I saw 1 (one) individual sized pizza, 1 (one) pint of ice cream and 1 (one) six pack of beer. I realized how sad and lonely I looked making this purchase on a Friday evening, so promptly went home to down a couple of those beers to numb that pain. Oh, and I'm also deep in the throws of my pre-menstrual insanity. (Note: I've never put much stock into the idea of PMS, until the past couple years or so, when I realized I definitely become mean, sad, tragic and paranoid during a certain 3 days a month)

So what did I do, after this horrid day? Why, I watched Terms of Endearment. I'd never seen it before. I guess I knew it would be sad, but OH MY GOD! When Debra Winger died, I was sobbing. I don't mean a tear or two came rolling down. I mean I was sobbing, the kind where your chest is hitching and you get the hiccups, and your nose runs.

I think I'm better today, but I wouldn't trust myself to watch Steel Magnolias or Beaches.