breakfast for liars

I often do things impulsively, then wonder whether or not I have done something wrong.

This morning I called my roommate (He owns the house we live in, but it's a two family flat, so technically we don't actually live together, but we still sort of live together, so rather than making up a brand new word to describe the guy, I refer to him as my roommate. He refers to me as the chick upstairs who loves her some run-on sentences.) to see if he would like to eat breakfast with me (which translates into, "Hey, would you like to make me some food?"). He agreed to cook said meal, but only after swimming around in his bathtub for awhile. Not a big deal. I called at eleven and I didn't have to leave for work until twenty after twelve.

Two problems with that thought. Number one, Roommate likes to stay in the tub until he resembles a one of those singing raisins that were on Saturday morning tv in the late eighties. And number two (heh, that means poo), I suck at time. I mean I really suck at time. Especially in the morning. I cease to be able to produce cognitive thought in relation to appropriate intervals for certain everyday tasks (e.g. the length of time it takes to put on a pair of pants). So, due to the combination of Roommate's extended stay in his bath, and my firm belief that I still had plenty of time to get to work, breakfast was finished cooking about five minutes before I was supposed to leave the house.

I was left with two choices rush through my delicious breakfast or call work and lie about the real reason that I was going to be late. I told them that I had to jump my car because I had left the dome light on all night. I feel guilty, but breakfast was great.