Just now we were sitting in our office (yes, this late at night...I know...I'm already tired tomorrow but Andrew and I have this pact-thing and...anyway...) and Andrew was working on a paper. Even though the semester ended yesterday. He still has papers due and finals to write and...blech.
So we're sitting here and Andrew goes, "Oh, no! What's that? What the?! Did you...? No, way!"
"What?" I asked.
"There's a sock in my pants! Someone had to have planted it there! You did this!"
"Are you serious? There's a sock in your pants again? It wasn't me. For real. It wasn't."
He pulled out one of his own dirty, white socks—identical to the one he found yesterday.
"Well," he guffawed, "I found the other one!"
What am I going to do with this boy? He's so silly.
What am I going to do with our room? It's a mess.
What am I going to do with myself tomorrow when I can't drag myself out of bed?