Saturday, October 2, 2010
It's time to move.
I rolled in last night around 5:00am and went right to sleep. 7:30am comes around and my Dad strolls into my room and plunks down on the side of my bed with a question to ask me. I manage to pry one very bleary eye open and glare up at him. Now, I've never been so good with the numbers but I'm pretty sure if I got to bed at 5:00am and am being rudely awaken, on a SATURDAY, at 7:30am, that means I've only enjoyed 2.5 hours of sleep.
Whatever. Ask your question and be gone with you, I said. Well, actually I just groaned in compliance and closed my eye hoping he would make this quick.
Father: "Are you on drugs?"
My eye pops back open and I consider sitting up. Can't. Too tired. Besides, he can't be serious.
Me: "You can't be serious."
Father: "Your Mother and I are just concerned about you and think you may be on drugs."
Me: "I'm not on drugs Dad. I'll let you know if and when this status changes."
I close my eye and pull my comforter over my head to signal meeting adjourned.
Now that I've had some time to think this through, it may not be such a bad idea. Not actually taking up the drug habit, (who can afford it nowadays?) but letting my family THINK I have. I've seen Intervention. These addicts practically get a day on the calendar named after them. The whole family gets together to tell them how special and loved they are. Each one of them has even written a letter to the honorary addict sharing favorite memories from times less troubled. Who couldn't do with a bit of that? To top it all off they get to go somewhere balmy and sunny that usually has palm trees.
Too bad I only have 4 vacation days left.
So, no, Dad. I am not on drugs. However, between this conversation and the car ride where you asked about my sex life when I was trapped in the moving vehicle with no escape other than bailing out and facing certain death...it's time for me to move.