For those of you who have been waiting patiently for one of my gripping tales of hypochondria, you're in luck:
Early this morning I woke up and started to get out of bed to head for the bathroom. I suddenly had a wave of dizziness and sank back onto the bed with a groan. Andy asked what was wrong, and I told him I was dizzy, even while lying down. He thought for a minute and then asked, "Is it still close enough to the middle of the night that you think it's probably brain cancer?" I said, "No, it's almost light out, so it's probably nothing."
However, the dizziness persisted even after I got up and had breakfast. Andy suggested a nice, hot shower (he thinks a nice, hot shower cures almost anything). I told him I was afraid I'd faint in the shower and drown. He said, "Drown? Are you crazy? You'd probably hit your head on the side of the tub and die that way."
And this, my friends, is why we've been married so long.
(For the record, I survived the long, hot shower but still felt a little funny afterward; however, as the day wore on, I felt fine.)
