The Voice of an Angel

Ok, I'm going to keep this to a minimum because its not very nice. Completely true and un-exaggerated, but apparently not very nice.

Angel, my favorite roommate from downstairs, has been especially ironic to her name this week. On Sunday morning as Ryan and I left for church, we ran into her in the hallway carrying her groceries in, she jumped and proclaimed "You scared me!" as she always does (I think she must have nightmares about white people stalking through her house.) On arriving home we saw her groceries had been neatly arranged on the coffee table: rows and rows of juices, soda, cups, etc. I naively thought "she'd never have a party without asking us" and finished preparing for the arrival of my dear old friends, Julie and Justin.

They arrived later that night, as did Angel's party guests. At one point she knocked on our door to offer us Guinness in exchange for a bottle opener, but for the most part I sat in the room with my friends and husband, shaking my head at her brilliant idea of having a party at 11pm on a Sunday night. Luckily for us, her guests didn't stay too late, and we were able to get to bed before 1am (Ryan and I both had school/work the next morning).

Monday night I made some rolls, which were pretty successful now that I've figured out what "fast-action yeast" entails. (Google it) and left my watch on the counter while kneading. After dinner, we received one of the many free 2-hour long performances of "Complicated" by Avril Lavigne, as "sung" by Angel (and I use the term loosely).

Then, Tuesday morning, disaster struck. As I was rushing off to work at 7:30, my watch was no where to be found. Ryan and I rushed around but to no avail. After arriving home, I sat bitterly in our room, listening to Angel's never-ending tribute to Avril Lavigne (with occasional Sarah Mcachlan interludes) and accusing her of stealing my watch from the kitchen where I was pretty sure I left it. Ryan told me this was not very nice, and I explained that if I unfairly accuse her, I will find my watch on my own, and then feel guilty. Come on, that's how things usually work. But to no avail. As we attempted sleep (around 1am) the Avril Lavigne was too loud and emotional, and Julie/Justin nominated me to trod downstairs and ask Angel to be quietly. I begrudgingly did so. She was very sweet and apologetic, as she always is. As I climbed into bed with semi-conscious Ryan, he said "oh I hope we didn't stifle her singing" and I feared this, but next morning I went downstairs and heard more of this lovely singing.

The final blow came this morning, at 10am we were awakened by "Complicated" I got up and started getting ready. I looked over on the nightstand and THERE WAS MY WATCH! I yelled to Julie and Justin, who asked me if I looked there before. "Of course I did! I looked here 5 times!" Julie looked doubtful. "Don't make me think I'm crazy!" I said. Justin joked "you should thank Angel." And I did. In response, wafting through the floorboards was the ultimate terrible karaoke song, Whitney Houston's "I-I-I-ee-I Will Always Love You." BUT on further investigation, Ryan apparently saw Angel this morning and asked her if she'd seen it. She produced it from her room, claiming that she thought one of her friends left it. So, basically, I WAS RIGHT.