I woke up at 3 in the morning due to going to bed at an abnormally early hour, which was originally in anticipation of rising at 5:30 to get ready to help Alison paint her senior parking spot.
So I basically did a whole bunch of productive things in that couple of hours.
Alison wasn't texting me/showing up at my house at the time she'd originally stated, so I treated myself to a delicious breakfast of cinnamon toast and fruit (with sprinkles). It was the greatest thing. Finally Alison called me and informed me she'd be a little later than expected to my house, so I was allotted a nap. And when I woke up? Alison, Amy, and Bianca were all filing one by one into my house. At the time (eight-ish?) my dad was the only other person awake, so of course he was like, "lolwut why are all these underaged loudmouthed girls in my house" which was funny.
And then everyone sat down at my table, and out of habit, automatically helped themselves to the contents of my kitchen and told me about the shenanigans they'd gotten into the previous night. That made me smile, a lot. We were like one big crazy family.
But then Alison did the unthinkable. She started to make cinnamon toast- THE WRONG, DISGUSTING, IMMORAL WAY.
She- can you believe this?- put the bread in the toaster, took it out, spread the butter on, and then sprinkled on some cinnamon. WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT.
For your information, readers, this is not how you make cinnamon toast. You make cinnamon toast by getting a bowl, mixing and mashing together the butter (or other butter-flavored spread of your choosing) with lots of cinnamon, lots of sugar, and a teeny bit of vanilla, until it's an even consistency. Then you spread the mixture on the bread, covering it to the edges. You stick it in the oven for like 5-10 minutes, and then under the broiler for 1-2 minutes. And when it comes out, it's a beautiful, caramelized, crunchy-on-top-but-soft-on-the-inside creation of sugary buttery cinnamon bliss.
I don't mess around with my breakfast foods.
So after properly scolding Alison for her cinnamon sin bread, we all piled into into Amy and Alison's vehicles, and drove off to my old high school, a place I haven't been to since before graduation. But not really. It was only the parking lot. Which carries a lot of fond memories for me, mostly of sitting in Alison's car waiting for everyone else to leave because she was too timid to deal with the exit line and traffic. But there's also the sitting in Shelby's truck just talking before leaving, the times Taylor drove me home blasting his ska music, the time a chandelier was put into the bed of Ryan's truck... sigh. My senior year and I had a love/hate relationship, obviously.
This morning, the north side of the parking lot was filled with the scantily clad paint-covered bodies of the class of 2011, a rather sketchy bunch... This morning was all it took for me to fully understand Alison's intense (even more so than normal) hatred of going to school- these people kind of sucked. Amy and Bianca and I don't go to that school (anymore), so we felt above everyone, but poor Alison... she has to see those people every day. We were later than everyone else, but we did not care. We found Alison's parking spot (E7!) and went to work creating a giant swirly white flower, surrounded one side by blue and one side by black (we were only allowed to use our school colors, blue and white, in addition to silver & black) and her name in big block letters around the edges. The midmorning Florida sun was disgustingly hot, and the blacktop blistered our bare feet. By the end of it we were sweaty, covered in paint, sunburnt (well, I was the only one who got sunburnt, my Northern European genes do me no good in such situations), and just ready to leave. Which we did, eventually. Amy left first and then Bianca, and me and Alison last.
Alison and I went back to my house to regroup, which meant she laid on my bed and had a crisis, and then we went on adventure to solve said crisis, which required a lot of courage and nerve on her part, but in the end it was a relief. The solving of the crisis actually took up a good part of our energy and resolve today, and I wish I could tell you about it, but alas, it's too personal.
In celebration of the crisis-defeat, we went to Dunkin Donuts, and did what healthy people do- eat doughnuts and ice cream. Specifically, a marble frosted doughnut for her, a rainbow sprinkle with chocolate frosting doughnut for me, and two scoops of coffee-flavored ice cream to split. In fact, here's a picture, via Alison's twitpic. Enjoy that image. I know I did. I'm still thinking about it. It was absolutely gorgeous. Granted, it didn't agree so well with my stomach, which I had put two laxatives into that morning, thirty minutes later, but it was so, so worth it. My only regret is that I didn't buy a whole box for myself.
But that's a lie, I won't be eating ANYTHING tonight due to the current volatile and stubborn nature of my digestive system. And I can honestly say, I wouldn't even make an exception for more delicious, sugary, calorie-laden doughnuts. Honestly.
Then we came back to my house, collapsed on my bed, and looked at funny pictures on Tumblr. I stripped to my underwear to find that I now have a t-shirt & shorts tan line. Only it's not a tan line. It's a sunburn line. AND. On top of this, there are also random places around my leg where paint splattered and smeared on me, and when I peeled the paint off in the shower, and I literally have paint splatter tan lines. I look like a deformed dalmatian. And thanks to Safari's spell check, I just found I've been spelling "dalmatian" wrong my entire life. I've always put an "o" where the third "a" is. And now I feel stupid.
After Alison left my house, by no will or want of her own, and after my shower, I collapsed into one of the heaviest naps I've ever had the pleasure of taking. It was bliss. Sometime while I was sleeping, my dad came home from Ikea with the slats needed to complete my bed- oh yeah, for those of you who don't read my Tumblr, after all the stress and mayhem we went through to procure my fifty dollar bed frame (which we found literally AS THE STORE WAS CLOSING), we brought it home and assembled it only to find that it didn't include the bottom barred part that's required to hold up a mattress.
So, when I woke up from my nap, I groggily stumbled out of my room and to my dad's desk, and asked him, "WHAT DO WITH WOOD THINGS I DON'T KNOW FIX IT DAD PLEASE GRAAAWRRRRRGHHH". I'm really freaking pleasant when I first wake up.
So we assembled my bed. I'll miss my mattress-on-the-floor days, intensely. I felt like a monk or something for that whole period of time. But, it's cool to be in an actual bed like a civilized human being.
Then I showed my stepmom my sunburn and wrote this blog.