I Didn't Ask to Sleep Next to a Baby

So, I've been thinking a lot about some of the wacky things I did while drinking, lately. Most days were pretty straight-forward. Leave work, pick up a bottle of wine, go home, uncork, drink until empty. Nothing terribly eventful to report, unless you count forgetting half of the shit I watched on television. Or crying - no heaving - when something remotely sad came on. Like, I would get insanely sensitive. I'd wake up with my eyes swollen and I'd search my brain until some fuzzy memory was unearthed. Something about maybe watching My Girl or Steel Magnolias some such thing. Oh, that's right!

I've only had a handful of truly embarrassing things happen to me while drunk. One of them happened years ago, when I was still married to my ex-husband. He and I were at a party, which sort of began on the beach and eventually went indoors. There was a virtual truck load of champagne on hand. I had an empty stomach. So you see, I started the day on the right foot. By nightfall, I was a wreck. Swaying, slurring, stumbling. I didn't get sick, oddly. But I was told that I should lie down. The party hosts had a futon in a spare room, which is where I was taken. I fell asleep pretty fast. My bladder was busting at the seams and I had this dream that I was peeing so much, that the toilet was overflowing. Except I was actually peeing. On the futon. In a strange house. You might think this is bad, and it definitely is. But the story gets worse. Unbeknownst to me, a couple at the party put their two year old down to sleep next to me. Some people took pictures. Aw, isn't that sweet? Drunk lady and toddler, sleeping soundly next to each other. Until my ex-husband came into check on me, in mid-pee. At this point, the "house lights" came on, so to speak. The boy's parents scooped him up. Sheets and blankets were quickly peeled off the futon. I began apologizing profusely. I am not sure how I functioned for a few days after that. I really had crossed a line in my head. I sent the party hosts a very expensive basket of fruit and cheese and chocolate, still unable to believe what I had done. A grown woman with a professional job. By the way, not a drop of pee ever touched the boy, in case you were wondering.

I'm sure other people can relate to this sort of thing. "Normal" people might be mortified. It's been ten years or so since that incident and I can kind of laugh about it now. Because (a) no one was hurt and (b) I never got that smashed again. But I still continued to drink. For a long ass time.