Since she's still a bit traumatized from having someone break into her apartment while she was gone over Christmas break, Tiffany has decided to drive to my house once a week to stay for the night (I like to think of the beer in my refrigerator as bait).
In between assorted cat ruckus Thursday morning around 3 a.m., she gave a bloodcurdling scream, sat up, said, "Oh, my God! I thought you were dead.", then promptly fell back asleep.
Me? I was a bit freaked out, but sometimes it's just nice to be reminded that you're alive.
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