In honor of the day, I'd like to share a story:
Once upon a time, when we were in freshman year of college, and Claire's and my relationship as cohabitants was in its infancy, I was hard at workon a paper while Claire, who was apparently not taking any writing-intensive courses, did fuck all in our room. Her Vassar-issue bed was covered in laundry and other detritus while mine was pristine (as always). There I sat, typing away.
Claire yawned, stretched, and sauntered over to my side of the room.
Claire: "Sheena, my bed is all covered with shit. Can I take a nap on your bed?"
Sheena: (tap tap tap tap) "No. Are you serious? Fuck off."
"Aw, c'mon. You're so mean to me."
"I'm working on a goddamn paper."
"Hmph. FINE." Claire proceeds to brush the aforementioned crap onto the floor. She stretches out on her bed, cuddles Gunter, her teddy bear, and wheezingly falls asleep. Like all good sentinels and college students, she reaches R.E.M. sleep at a moment's notice. I continue working. Fretting, typing, reading, consulting the MLA.
Roughly 45 minutes later, Ms. Golden's eyelids flutter. She yawns and smacks her lips in the self-satisfied manner of the fully rested.
"Oh, what a nice nap. (*yawn* smack smack smack) Jealous?"
And yet, somehow, we have remained friends lo these 6 years. Though, if you've met Claire, you know that it's not a complete mystery. Aside from being one of the kindest (nap story notwithstanding) and generous people I know, she's an accomplished cat-whisperer, dutiful sous-chef, fearless striker and kleptomaniac, talented musician and yodeler. If I were in a duel, she'd be my second. Without her, it's unlikely I'd be able to wax philosophical about Footballers' Wives on the subway, or dance and sing such smash hits as James's "Laid" in public.
Happy Birthday, Jerkface! Kisses!
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