Don't take Ambien at work

I swear, I woke myself from sleep-eating just now. It was horrible. I was working on something in the kitchen at work and then suddenly I had a piece of pizza in my hand, and some in my mouth, and all the sounds were distant and muffled and I was in this weird pie-hypnosis. I don't know how it happened. One moment I was writing jokes about Safeco Field on a giant post-it note, and the next I was gullet-deep in veggie combo delight. I can't remember the last time I actually had pizza. I nearly gagged, chastised myself, and hurried back to my desk, throwing away the offensive slice and discreetly (or not) regurgitating my mouthful.

I remember the cheese... when it was not a big deal, when I ate it with reckless abandon. Now I just want to be sick. The tasty badness of it could be overwhelming, but the side of guilt is just not so appetizing. At what point did I forget it was MY body I was trying to poison? Egads. Sorry tummy. Sorry throat. And thighs, please forgive me. I'll run extra for you tonight.

It had to have been a trick. That apple slice I snacked on that tasted (for bad or for worse) like someone had sprayed it with condensed air chemical--maybe that was really a swallow-and-forget-it chemical conspiracy. Still, I should know better. At least I spit.

I would kill for some raisins. And could probably stand to gargle some bleach. Huyaacchh.

Wow. I am so embarassed. This right here is why I'm writing it down. Let the tsk-tsking commence.