During college I had a great roomie, Chanda. We are still friends to this day even, though she ditched the Northern land for Socal. Back then in my youth I had a propensity for sleeping in and I was usually late especially to church functions. Chanda being the wiser more mature one was never late and often would get up 2 hours before she needed to leave making sure she had enough time to eat breakfast and get ready for the day. But if I needed to be somewhere at 8:00 I would give myself 30 minutes to shower, dressed and grab something to eat as I was running out the door. That is the main reason I don't wear makeup. I'd rather sleep 5 extra minutes then apply blush to my cheek bones.
One Sunday, Chanda knocked on my door and poked her head in while I was sleeping in and said that should probably get up or I would be late for church. Half asleep and very rudely, I said, "Your not my Mom!" After that Chanda said she was never going to wake me up again. I knew that she was just trying to help me out and I was totally a jerk.
A year went by we moved into a different house and Chanda kept to her word. Then one September morning during the six o'clock hour Chanda came into my room without a knock. She said I should probably check out the TV because planes had flown into the World Trade Towers in New York. That morning I did not yell anything to Chanda as I got out of bed and stared at the television set.
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I remember that encounter every time Sept. 11th comes to mind. I also remember the years of jokingly yelling back and forth to each other "You're not my mom!". What great times we have had. More to come my friend... even if we aren't roommates anymore. Brit, I love you so much it hurts! ;)
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