When lying in my bed on the "second floor" of our dear old 4231, it's as if my brain shuts off. Enter witness Ruth Campbell, who continues to try and extract out some sort of rational interaction with me at any and all hours of the day, to no avail.
Last night at the pleasant hour of 12:40 am, Ruth entered the room and began to clammer around, mumbling to herself (nothing unusual) and looking for her jacket, shoes, scarf, etc. I poke my head out from under my "tarp" aka comforter (after having checked-in early for the evening) and weakly call, "Ruuuth?" Semblances of words such as "airport," "Felicity's friend," "3 am," are all I can seem to recall hearing before I face-plant back into the pillow. Sweet dreams.
But I'm not the only one guilty of such behavior. Since I have 8am's while my dear ole roommate has the pleasure of 9 am's or later everyday, I'm usually the first one up (with the exception of T/Th, when Ruth has more oomph and willpower to climb down the ladder than I can ever seem to muster). As I'm getting dressed and packing up all of my stuff, the following traditionally takes place:
R: (propping herself up, hair mussed/standing on end) Mmm...fjafjmdsfj...
C: Uh, hi.
R: (Silence.)
C: (Confused...to reply or not to reply...)
R: (Pulls comforter over head, never to be heard from again.)
A "shaft of light" into our lives.
What's your take, RC?
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