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damkiannaWell, that was not at all how I was planning to spend my Sunday morning. :P
B went out last night to go drinking and got back rather late - unfortunately, not late enough for me to have fallen completely asleep, so she woke me up turning several lights on. She also proceeded to leave those lights on, which I didn't realize until I woke up the next morning and they were still lit. She roused herself from her hangover coma long enough to tell me not to go in the bathroom because she had thrown up all over and had not finished cleaning it up. But she would, she asserted, and then conked out again; this left me feeling better, because at least she had left the lights on in an attempt to make my life easier, and worse, because ... I really needed a bathroom but she seemed pretty adamant about me not cleaning it. So I ended up going down two flights to use the bathroom in the dorm lobby. \o?
And I guess I should be glad I didn't bother cleaning then, because after B woke up, she ran into the bathroom several more times to throw up - mostly into the toilet this time, I grant, but still. Eventually she emptied her stomach and said she felt like she would not need to throw up again; I took the opportunity to tell her that I really might as well do the clean-up.
All I have to say about that is that red wine renders vomit splatters a rather striking shade of dark pink, and that I cannot for the life of me figure out where B was standing while she was hurling, because she seemed to get some just about everywhere. Including parts of the lower wall and the sides of my shampoo and conditioner bottles, I might add. :P Anyway, the short version is: I hate cleaning up vomit, but at least I wasn't on a moving bus with nothing but toilet paper this time.
I like B, and she definitely adds that certain something to my life, but I can't say I'm going to be sorry to move back home after graduation. ^^
B went out last night to go drinking and got back rather late - unfortunately, not late enough for me to have fallen completely asleep, so she woke me up turning several lights on. She also proceeded to leave those lights on, which I didn't realize until I woke up the next morning and they were still lit. She roused herself from her hangover coma long enough to tell me not to go in the bathroom because she had thrown up all over and had not finished cleaning it up. But she would, she asserted, and then conked out again; this left me feeling better, because at least she had left the lights on in an attempt to make my life easier, and worse, because ... I really needed a bathroom but she seemed pretty adamant about me not cleaning it. So I ended up going down two flights to use the bathroom in the dorm lobby. \o?
And I guess I should be glad I didn't bother cleaning then, because after B woke up, she ran into the bathroom several more times to throw up - mostly into the toilet this time, I grant, but still. Eventually she emptied her stomach and said she felt like she would not need to throw up again; I took the opportunity to tell her that I really might as well do the clean-up.
All I have to say about that is that red wine renders vomit splatters a rather striking shade of dark pink, and that I cannot for the life of me figure out where B was standing while she was hurling, because she seemed to get some just about everywhere. Including parts of the lower wall and the sides of my shampoo and conditioner bottles, I might add. :P Anyway, the short version is: I hate cleaning up vomit, but at least I wasn't on a moving bus with nothing but toilet paper this time.
I like B, and she definitely adds that certain something to my life, but I can't say I'm going to be sorry to move back home after graduation. ^^
