It had been a long, awful, absolutely exhausting week at school. It had been filled with a sinus infection, class, math homework, choir practice, more choir practice, a trip to the urgent care, even more choir practice, and finally the performance of the Play of Herod. (Being in the college choir is a rewarding experience, but is proving to be a bit of a trial junior year.)
After the concert (during which I actually fell asleep while I was supposed to be merely pretending), one of the sophomore guys invited a few of us up to the guest trailers for a surprise party for his little sister who was visiting. I was incredibly drugged up and tired, but I thought I'd pop in for a couple of minutes to be friendly and hospitable and all of that sort of thing.
After being fed a piece of cake (and everyone was very insistent that I be given one and only one piece of cake), I placed the plate on the floor. Nathaniel picked it up to throw it away. Someone jokingly commented about the fact that his question "Are you done?" came across as much more of an authoritative "You are done." In his defense, he said, "Well, it was on the floor!" Peter, quick to come to his aid, insisted, "Yes, Bridget only puts things she's done with on the floor."
A little light bulb illuminated over Kim's head as she registered all of this. She looked at me and then at Jeff who was sitting near the foot of my chair. "Oooooh," she said, getting a mischievous look in her eye, "Is that why Jeff's on the floor?"
Cue absolute, rib-cracking laughter.
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