Regina, please don't dump me.

Dear Regina,

I realize I am a trial as a roommate. I am too loud. I fold laundry at inappropriate times. I run the vacuum too early. All this I know. But nothing can make up for last night.

Let me explain.

I came home knowing you were not there. I have been obsessing about a new song (Mama's Broken Heart by Miranda Lambert in case you'd like to take a looky-loo) and had been listening it on my ear buds ont he walk all the way from my car. So, when I got into the elevator solo, I busted out in song. It's a good tune. You really should buy into that to begin with, it will help explain things. And again, knowing you were not there, I continued to sing at the top of my lungs all the way into the loft.

I proceeded to plug in the iPod and sing out loud while I baked granola. And, being a conscientious roommate, I started to sweat over the stove. No matter - running the AC costs money. This I know. Then I thought - I know. I'll take off my dress. I have on a slip, that's kind of like a dress, but with less fabric. That will cool me down.

Once the granola was in the oven, I thought I'd practice my hooping mad skillz while I waited for the granola to bake. It was then I realized I could NOT hoop to Miranda Lambert's Mama's Broken Heart song - it was far too fast a beat and I was out of breath by the second verse. But I hooped and played that song about five times before I gave in and allowed the iPod to roll over to the next song. The Boxer by Mumford and Sons lent itself way better to hooping. By this time I was sweating to an unladylike degree, so I gave in, shut the windows and turned on the AC.

After Mumford, I started listening and hooping to the same old tunes I run to and felt that was stale. I know, I thought, I'll listen to Simon and Garfunkel's version of The Boxer - that will be a nice change of pace. So, I scrolled to all songs, and then went OOOOOOH, "A" section, Adelina by George Strait! How fun! And I listened to it. And hooped. And the next song came on - Addicted by my soon to be boyfriend, Enrique Iglesias (damn you Anna Kournikova, but at least I know you like blondes) and continued to hoop. I made it all the way through the "A"s to Ay Bay Bay by Hurricane before you came home.

Which should explain why you found me in my underwear sweating profusely singing Ay Bay Bay very loudly hooping like a mad thing. I'm very sorry for screaming in shock while my hoop clattered to the floor. It's as if I forgot you lived there.

It won't happen again. I do really like that you just said "hello" like everything was normal, and went into your room like nothing had happened, while I blurted out incoherently things like "My, but you're home early!" and "I was reading a book, honestly!" and "HOGOD, I'm so sorry!!!"

In my defense, you should have seen this coming. In any event, please don't run away into the night screaming like I do when you come home and surprise me in my underwear while hooping. I promise not to do it again.

Until I forget you live there and come home alone again, that is.