“Megan, you have to call in sick to work. You can’t go in like that.”
This is the conversation D and I were having at 7:55 this morning.
This was after I had woken up from a bad dream (getting kidnapped by Mexican slave drivers after being falsely accused of shoplifting a pastry from their cover-up business) which roused me from sleep at 7:40—over an hour later than my normal wake time.
This was also after I sprinted into the shower and crushed the sensitive part of the elbow on a senseless metal bar/washcloth rack that lives on my shower wall.
What’s that you say? An incredibly late start and a sore elbow aren’t reason enough to call in sick to your new job?
Of course not!
The bigger problem is that last night, D jokingly tried to give me a hickey. This morning, much to our horror, the big joke had morphed into a massive, bing cherry-colored catastrophe.
“I’m not calling in sick! I can’t!”
“Then you have to wear a turtleneck.”
“It’s the middle of summer. And a turtleneck would be totally obvious.”
“Oh, man. I’m canceling our plans tonight. We can’t hang out with our friends like this.”
“We? It’s my neck!”
“Then you have to wear your hair down today!”
“I have five minutes to get ready—it’s going up.”
This went on for some time, until I pulled a fitted jacket with a high collar out of my closet and found that it was just high enough to cover the unsightly blemish. I looked at D for approval.
“Oh yeah, that’ll do. You’ll have to wear that tonight, too.”
It’s not my best outfit ever, but so far I don’t think anyone has noticed. I try to keep everyone on the right of me, which makes me feel a lot like Mariah Carey. And no, I’m not wearing this god-forsaken jacket over the weekend. Friends, you all will have to deal with my unsightly monster hickey.
On a totally unrelated note—black cat Ella Bean wishes you all a happy and very lucky Friday the 13th!
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