Last night I went out with a bunch of friends, had a bunch of drinks, etc etc. Around 2, I guess, I was a mess, so Jill and Joe decided it was time to take me home. Very wise of them. After a lengthy cab ride where I rode with my head out the window like a dog, we got to my apartment, whereupon I found it necessary to fight with them because I wanted to sleep in the stairwell ("Chryssa, it's cold and dirty!" "No! I like it! Don't touch me!") and resist being carried ("Joseph, put me down! Jillian, I will only go upstairs if you accompany me and if Joseph will leave. "). Finally I was in my apartment with Jill, but I wouldn't get into bed ("I wont go in there! You can't make me go in there!" "Chryssa, just go to bed." "No!! I'm too dirty! There's dirt all in my clothes!" (from the stairwell episode)). So it seemed logical for me to sleep on the floor, right?
Now, anyone who knows me knows of my love of nests, little places, and habitats for curling up. What better place to sleep than under the table? It has a protective, cave-like atmosphere under there, and it is cool and dark. So I curled up under the table with all my clothes on. Jill, worn out, decided not to argue, but wanted to give me a pillow ("I don't want it! Don't give that thing to me! I won't take it!" "Chryssa, just take it"--I did-- "Oh, I looooove it! It's so soft!"). Anyway, at some point during the night I got up to get a blanket, and so this is what Eunjee found in the morning:
Her reaction: "What is this?"
"It's a sleeping place."
"Oh," and she went back to bed without a second thought.
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