My phone rang at 6:30 this morning. Repeatedly. Even if you account for daylight savings ignorance, it's still too damn early. Add the additional factor that it's the morning following the Saturday before Halloween and then its really f**king early. As I'm cursing Aunt Irma or Grandma, both equally guilty until proven otherwise, I reach for the phone to check caller-id.
It's neither.
A hypothetical question: if Captain Morgan, the same Captain Morgan you're not supposed to be seeing anymore for reasons too stupid to go into, rings your front door twenty-trillion times at 6:30 in the morning, do you let him in? And if you do, is it really so bad that you open the covers to him? Because sometimes, just sometimes, isn't that warm, sweet breath next to you better than a principle?
