Heather Anne

Sometimes I tell you stories, and you think my best friend is the greatest friend in all the world. Like this one:

Today I woke up to fight round 4 with the Sinus Infection That Broke Free From The Pit Of Hell, and my head was hurting so badly that I had to go to the bathroom and look in the mirror to make sure someone hadn't driven an icepick through my skull in the middle of the night. I took some medicine and a steaming shower and pressed my eyes shut super tight, trying to think of train wrecks or trench wars or natural disasters or anything more pleasant than my Sinuses.

Amy finally took matters into her own hands and said, "I am going to draw you a bath." (She said "draw" like "drawer," which is exactly how I like it to be said.)

Ten minutes later I was lying in my bathtub with my head completely submerged, breathing through my mouth, which was just breaking the surface of the water.

"It's working," I said to Amy, who was sitting on the counter plucking her eyebrows. "I can feel the stuff moving around inside my sinus cavity like Tectonic Plates!"

Amy said, "I know, it's the heat and the different pressure."

Then she screamed, so I jerked my head up out of the water, but it turned out she was only ripping one of those Biore plaster things off her nose. I sank back down.

Every so often I would come up to blow my nose, and one time I came up and Amy was standing there with these extra-dark lips, and I was like, "What's up, Lady of the Night?"

And she said, "Everyone needs an evening shade."

And I said, "Not you. We don't go out in the evenings."

And she said, "Yes, we do."

And I said, "Angie's Barbecue Shack doesn't really count."

So she wiped off the lipstick.

I went back down into the water and said, "I think I would like to wear a superhero t-shirt when I get out."

"Spider-Man is clean," she said.

I made a gagging noise.

"Okay," she said. "We're still upset with the third movie. How about the Hulk?"

"Too greeny," I said. "I'm sick, remember."

She said, "Right. How about Captain America?"

I said, "AMY!"

"Ohhhkay," she said, "Mourning Civil War. I get it."

"How about something from the DC Universe?" I asked.

"Your blacks are in the dryer. No Batman today. How about Super Beef?" she asked.

I agreed.

"And my grey sweatpants!" I shouted after her, as she left to get my clothes.

In a few minutes, I heard the bathroom door open. I sat up out of the water, and in walked Margaret. She brought my grey sweatpants in in her mouth and dropped them by the bathtub.

So yeah, you're right, my best friend is the best. But then I tell you stories like this:

Tonight I asked Amy if she'd seen my cell phone because I haven't had it in about 4 days. And she asked if I had looked in my car. And I said yes, I had looked in my car. And she said, "You telling me you looked somewhere for something doesn't mean shit to me. Let me look."

Which shows that, you know, even the best friends can sometimes be abusive.

Seriously, though, has anyone seen my phone?