a rock and a hard place

...Or as they say in Spanish, "between the sword and the wall." Except they actually say it in Spanish.

Whatever. You know what I mean.

Tonight I found myself faced with a choice between two evils. Or, more accurately, I made my choice of one evil then realized later that I wasn't sure I had actually picked the lesser of the two.

This evening was the Open House for our school. I was in the building nearly all day (so I missed my daily 7-hour nap) preparing my classroom for the onslaught of parents and students that would be filling the school tonight. I was also mentally preparing the speech I was going to give about my classes (since we had been told two days prior that all teachers would stand up, introduce themselves, and give a little blurb about their classes.) I figured I would stand up and talk in Spanish at first, just to show off...er...I mean, show I knew what I was doing. Then I'd launch into a bunch of stuff about the classes that I had pretty much made up that afternoon, seeing as my past month has been focused on seven hour naps and NOT pre-planning.

When I went home to change for the Open House, I realized I had a bit of a dilemma on my hands. I had already changed and made up my face, but I really needed to brush my teeth since I would actually be having to talk to people tonight. The problem is that, recently, I never know when brushing my teeth is going to earn me a one-way ticket to the toilet bowl. It's very tricky, this little gag reflex. Some days I am totally fine. Others I end up dry heaving (or worse, bringing up bile) for five minutes, after which I'm back where I started, with an ever nastier mouth than before I stuck the toothpaste in.

These little episodes also leave one feeling incredibly tired, and drained, and make one lose all one's mascara.

There was no choice about it--I was going to have to do something else. I thought for a moment, then decided I would stop by a gas station on the way to school and get some gum. THAT would do the trick!

Now, one of the lovelier symptoms I have had is this constant burping. If that sounds gross, that's because it is. Typically it's at least somewhat quiet, though every now and then one lets loose with a force that would make a middle school boy stare in awe. I have no warning for those. They just come.

It wasn't until I was almost to school with a coke in one hand and the gum in the other--and one rather large belch had just snuck up and out of me--that I realized I had just ingested two things that would certainly not be aiding me in the gas department. And now I had to stand up in front of people and talk with these time bombs rolling around in my gut.

Suddenly I wished I had taken my chances with the toothbrush.

So I stood over to the side during Open House assembly, trying to keep my sounds to a minimum, praying that I wouldn't mortify myself in front of all these people, and trying to remember all the stuff I had made up about my classes, when it ended up our Headmistress decided it was too hot in the assembly room and that we would just be in our classrooms to describe our classes.