Becca: The Eleventh Commandment

The unspoken 11th Commandment is as follows:

Thou shalt not unplug the fan in Becca and Heather's room.

The story is this: Heather and I were having a discussion during one of our late-night runs (we run together at night now - yay for exercise!), about PMS. 

Note: Yes, guys, you can gag or snicker, I don't care; we're girls, and as such are allowed to discuss these things. That does NOT give you permission to ask us "It's PMS, isn't it?" every time we get mad at you. The answer is probably yes, which means that you DO NOT want to make us any more angry by bringing it up. Just a word of advice.

Anyway, we were talking, and she told me that the evening before she had had a moment of, "I want to KILL Becca right now. She's not doing anything, but ... she's just ... I HATE HER ...". 

Note: Yes, guys, we have those moments. Beware.

We had a good laugh over it, and then I realized, if this was the time to come clean, I had a confession to make. It went something like this: "Well, Heather, the other night I wanted to go to bed early, and I was already kind of mad, and I went into our room, and I tried to turn on the fan, but it wasn't turning on. So, I looked at the cord, and you had unplugged it and plugged in your keyboard, and I had a moment of, 'OH MY GOSH. She did NOT unplug MY [which is actually her] FAN!! Where is she?! I'm gonna rip her HEAD OFF!!' ... and yeah, I didn't kill you, but I wanted to. Because the fan ... was unplugged ..."

And we laughed for a good five minutes over that one. Well, now it's a great big joke that I am that touchy about a fan (which I'm actually not, it was just a surge of hormones and hatred that needed to be aimed at something, and Heather happened to be available at the time). That is all well and good, because I can laugh about it just as much as she does, but it went a little too far last night, after we had both crawled into bed and realized that we had forgotten to turn the fan on.

Me: "Uhg."

Heather: "What?"

Me: "... we forgot to turn the fan on."

Heather: "... oh, shoot."

Me: "I'll get it ..."

Heather: "No! I'll get it! *scrambles to get up first*"

Me: "I'm on the bottom bunk, I'll get it! *gets to the fan first*"

Heather: "Aw, man ..."

Me: *clicks the button on the fan* *nothing happens* "Hey, the fan isn't ..."

Heather: *snicker*

Me: "... turning on." *checks cord* "... YOU!"

Heather: "I UNPLUGGED THE FAN!! ON PURPOSE!! BAHAHAHAHA!!"

Me: *seethes* "Well, fine! You get down and plug it in!" *gets back into bed*

Heather: *climbs down and plugs the fan in and gets back up, laughing*

The cruelty, readers! Oh! - the cruelty! Do you not sympathize with me? DO YOU NOT?! Oh, I suffer ...

Well, there is my story for you. Don't touch my fan.

Keep on smiling!