On March 12th my boyfriend, Randy, and I had spent the evening dining at one of our favorite Mexican restaurants in his hometown. Our meal was fantastic and we chased it down with a pitcher of strawberry margaritas. I’m a fan of plain margaritas but my main squeeze loves the strawberry so why not. Don’t get me wrong, I like strawberry margaritas but plain is my go-to. We ended the night cuddling on the couch watching tv prior to climbing into bed to sleep off our margarita buzz. The next morning I awoke to feel a little sluggish and nauseated. It wasn’t horrible, just not feeling the greatest. I told Randy it was probably all of the food and the alcohol I consumed the night before. It might also be something in the strawberry mix. I’ve drunk margaritas before and didn’t have a problem so maybe something in the mix doesn’t agree with me. Let’s just blame it on the strawberries. I curled up against Randy while he was playing on his phone. The next thing I knew, Randy was standing next to me asking me how long I was going to sleep. I was shocked to find out I had fallen back to sleep for 2 hours which only seemed like a few minutes. He had already eaten breakfast, showered, and dressed for our afternoon plans. I climbed out of bed reassuring him I was OK. I quickly showered while he made me a cup of coffee. My stomach still felt queasy so I made myself toast before heading out the door. I wasn’t about to spend the day doing nothing since we only get one full day together. We spent the day running around and stopped for something to eat which I was able to eat even though I really didn’t feel like eating much but I needed to try. I was just hoping I would regain my strength and this would run its course quickly.