Rebecca is not responsible for the behavior of her nightgown!

On Friday night, Sara and I watched The Runaways! It took me forever to find it and rent it, because for some stupid reason, it was listed under T instead R. I would've been so pissed if I had gone through all that trouble, only to have the movie disappoint me, but it didn't. It was better than I had expected, and so was Dakota's singing. Friday night ended with Sara getting possessed by the devil. That's right.

But I was possessed by forces worse than that on Saturday. I didn't take an allergy pill on Friday night, and you'd think skipping one day wouldn't make a huge difference, right? Wrong. At one point I actually think I sneezed about fifteen times in two minutes, which is a record even for me.

Sunday packed in even more fun. An asthma attack hit me out of nowhere that afternoon. I can usually breathe myself out of them, but it didn't work this time. Sometime around two in the morning, I finally realized I was never going to get to sleep breathing like this, so Adam drove me to the hospital where Mom works, and she gave me a breathing treatment. (Which was not something I had wanted. I had hoped to just go to the hospital where she works, not because she works there, but because it's the closest one to the apartment, and get a breathing treatment without seeing her. But we can't always have what we want.)

Everybody but me freaked out over it, which frankly really annoyed me. I'm the one with asthma, and I don't think people who don't have it can tell me how to take my medication or how bad an attack is or isn't. I stayed perfectly calm until after I actually got the breathing treatment. The vapors in the machine make you incredibly nervous, so at four in the morning, I found myself high-strung and paranoid (at one point I think I actually said, "Someone's out to get me!") with my heart racing. But hey, I could breathe again, so I didn't even care.