Last night I went to bed feeling good. I had just enjoyed a wonderful pre-Thanksgiving pie night with a bunch of friends and a bunch of pie. I quickly fell sound asleep. About 40 minutes later I woke up with that awful, "I had better get to the bathroom quick. If don't make it, my life is only going to get worse. Mommy isn't around to take care of this kind of stuff, and my roommates don't love me enough to clean up after me." Life continued on like this for the next hour or so. I would "hug the porcelain"for a few minutes, go to back to bed, only to have to get up a few minutes later, jump over baskets of my "hand-wash, line dry" sweaters and tops, and squeeze behind the bathroom door. Finally, I went to bed and didn't wake up until morning. I felt fine, but was completely exhausted and a little weak...probably from the lack of anything in my system. I was about to call in sick when I imagined the phone call going something like this:

"Hey, I am sick so I am going to take the day off today."
"Sick. uhh hhhhuuuuuuuh. Riiiiiiiiight. Did you go see Harry Potter last night?"
"Huh? No. I was sick all night."
"Yeah, that's what they all say."

For some reason, that imaginary conversation was enough to get me up and out of bed. Curse you Harry Potter. Curse you.