So last night I had a visitor while I was settling into women's figure skating. Mia and her boyfriend rang our doorbell at ten thirty in the evening. Unfortunately, I don't do nights. If I'm out on the town before nine pm, then I don't have a curfew, but I can't leave the house after the clock strikes the ninth. I don't know why. Weird parent rule, I guess. Anyway, so Mia and Co. have a dog with them. A dog. I don't like dogs. I'm not scared of them - really - but I very strong dislike them. So seeing Basil (the dog) would've been reason enough for me to decline any invitations to play.
To compound matters, I was getting over a cold I'd caught from Heidi. It was at its worst on Friday, when my throat felt like it must be bleeding in a hundred places and my body was burning and my brains were melted. But I healed well enough over the weekend - despite the fact that I was celebrating New Year's on Saturday and at a ballet on Sunday - that by Monday I felt well enough to go play in San Francisco. That certainly wasn't my brightest move. Tuesday brought the fever roaring back, and I felt gross. Since I didn't have to go to school, I was able to remain sufficiently drugged all day. I certainly wasn't lookin' my best, tho'.
Anyway, so Mia's at the door and I'm lounging in front of the tv, my system full of God-Knows-What. Mom tells me it's Mia - and I assume that means her boyfriend is there, too, because right now they're basically a unit - so I charge up the stairs to find a pair of jeans to change into. (My current pair had a hole in the butt big enough to shove basketballs through.) I can't find any pants, though, because they're all in the wash. So I stick my head out the door, carefully keeping my rear out of view. Jeff (boyfriend) keeps asking me "Are you OK?" which was fine the first and second time, since I wasn't, not really, but when he's asking me for the fourth or fifth time I'm wondering Do I really look that crappy? And if I do, does it matter?
Long story short, I was less than polite. Dog + cold + late night + missing Figure Skating = Cranky Sam. So I'll apologize for my behavior now.
Now back to the Olympics and guys in spandex.