I like Monday.

Shh! I’ve been very quiet as of late. I’ve been busy harboring a fugitive. Now that Foxie Doxie’s a killah, do you think he’ll get a record contract or just be stuck playing in the NFL?

I’ve also been delightfully busy harboring my college roommates, who came for our annual girls’ weekend. Four former sorority house roommates + nothing really to do or talk about = super fantastic fun weekend.

For reals.

We ate fried chicken. We revisited gossip of ages past (did whats-her-name reallllllly get caught getting it on with another woman in the sorority house?). We grilled each other on 80s trivia. And, if it will make your Monday better, I’ll say we had topless pillow fights, just like in the old days (although that one isn’t at all true).

I have a one-bedroom, one-office house, so the two ladies visiting from out of town got my room and I slept on an air mattress in the office. I should be ecstatic that they left this morning and I get my room back.

But I’m not. I almost cried at the airport.

It’s so good for the soul to have friends who knew you when and who love you anyway. And it’s good for the soul to laugh until you think you’re going to wet yourself over something that happened 15 years ago.

I’m so thankful for these ladies’ love and friendship, and I’m so proud of the strong women that they’ve become. We persevered over the bad perms and over sized t-shirts of our youth and become deep, true friends. And that makes me like Monday.

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