Blaine was recently lamenting that her daughter 5 year old daughter Ruby was going to have dinner and a movie at a friend’s house, and then soon she’d be driving, and then leaving, and all I could think about was what a literal, actual nightmare it would be, as an adult, to go sleep over at someone’s house that you sort of only know. Can you imagine? You have to bring your toothbrush, all of your creams. You don’t know what the bed or food situation will be, you have to make conversation and it will be sort of rude, no matter what, when you decide that you want to go to bed. I remember a sleepover when I was like, 10? When we chugged coke from the liter bottle so that we could stay up all night watching Free Willie over and over, WHICH WE DID. I think maybe we all slept for 30 minutes in the morning before our parents came to pick us up. I DON’T RECALL SLEEPING MORE UNTIL THE FOLLOWING NIGHT. TORTURE, NIGHTMARE-ISH. So no, I do not want to sleep over. No thank you, I do not. I want to sleep comfortably in the world that I have neurotically crafted for myself as an adult, but thank you very VERY much. Or, as Morrison famously replied to his friend Dave, who, when they first met in elementary school, asked him to sleep over: No thanks. I’m good.