The nerve of those Whos.
Inviting me down there - on such short notice!
Even if I wanted to go, my schedule wouldn't allow it!
[opens up schedule book]
Four o'clock, wallow in self pity;
Four-thirty, stare into the abyss;
Five o'clock, solve world hunger, tell no one;
Five-thirty, jazzercize;
Six-thirty, dinner with me - I can't cancel that again;
Seven o'clock, wrestle with my self-loathing...
I'm booked.
Of course, if I bump the loathing to nine, I could still be done in time to lay in bed, stare at the ceiling and slip slowly into madness.
But what would I wear?!