Oh crap, I ate spinach

I ate a giant spinach salad today. I KNOW. What was I thinking? I went to this restaurant, see, and looked at this nice chef's salad on a bed of romaine. But there was this gorgonzola pear thing on the specials menu, and I'm all, looks yummy to me! Except that it was propped up on a massive fluffy truckload of the deadly greens, unbeknownst to me at time of ordering.

Salad arrives. The sinister leaves of doom are piled high, topped with a token pear and some walnuts. "Oh no," I say to the husband. "It's, uh, spinach. It kills people."

"It's only bagged spinach that's the problem," he suggests, optimistically. I check my brain at the door in that very moment, and devour the entire toxic pile of vegitation while chattering on about the extreme cuteness of the baby, who is sitting on my lap and watching her mother stuff down forkfulls of death.

It's hours later. Is that a stomach ache or did I just drink that chai too fast? What was that restaurant thinking, and for that matter, what was I thinking? Kidney failure, anyone?

Being that food poisoning is my number three fear in life, just behind firey car accidents and serial killers, I am totally freaked out of my mind.

Pray for me.

Update OK, so I called the restaurant in a fit of paranoia. They claim it was arugula. The husband is laughing. I would strangle him with the cord of his Xbox controller except that it is cordless. &^%!