The Stuff of Bad Slumber Party Films

Such is the level of procrastination in Caza fon Almily that when I, propelled by an utter loathing of the prospect of further bonding with Microsoft Word, whined, "I want someone to blow dry my hair," not fifteen minutes ago, Ali, propelled by a complete hatred of the idea of continuing to thread her sewing machine, replied:

"Sure!"

with sincere enthusiasm.

We have now moved that much closer to living the slumber party cliché; goodness knows we already giggle madly while jumping on a small trampoline in our living room. I'm just awaiting the inevitable pillow fight that seals our fate.