You're not


Today had a rough start. Having gone to bed with a migraine, and attempting to sleep with two v, two Tylenol, and two Advil, as well as one snuggly dog, I woke up with a headache, but not a head-crushing one of the middle of the night. Dad and I dashed off to catch Jessia for lunch, Dad driving not only because his driving meant extra time I could spend with him, but also protection only to discover about ten minutes after seeing her that I was having another migraine, and I needed to leave.

Jessica offered me some of her migraine medicine, but I would have to get it from her house. At this point, I was willing to drive to Montana to be rid of this cursed thing, ten minutes farther along the road from my dad's house was no big deal.

We arrived at Jess' house and used the key code she had given us. We entered the garage, walked up to the back door, and turned the handle.

Well, turned our hands around the handle. The door from the garage was locked.

Thump. Thump. Thump. My head was still pounding. I looked around, and spied the cat door next to the people door. I looked up.

Dad looked at me.

"You're not."

I looked at him. At the cat door. At him. Back at the cat door, and replied, "Sure am," turning to hand him my coat.

Nominally smaller than my dog door, my hips barely fit through the door (at a diagonal!) as I squirmed into Jessica's house, and wandered over to her kitchen counter for the bag of chemical goodness.

Ah, yes, better living through modern chemistry.