Alternate life plan:

Get some sort of adventurous photography gig making tons of money where I’ll be traveling around so much that I won’t have time for love. Think Lisa Ling on that one adventure show. Only she’s a broadcaster, and I’d be taking pictures. And she’s engaged. Or married. Whatever. The specifics of this plan don’t actually matter, since any of this happening is not all that likely, due to the fact that I don’t plan on getting out of bed. Ever.

“This room is really starting to stink,” Jasmine says pointedly, looking at my hair, clothes, and all-around disgusting appearance. I’m still brushing my teeth, at least, since I figure if I’m going to die alone and dirty, I might as well keep my dignity by not being toothless as well.

“I don’t smell anything,” I say. I’m lying on my bed in the same flannel pants and Syracuse College sweatshirt that I’ve slept in for the past six days. I’m watching Gracie’s Choice, this really good Lifetime movie starring Kristen Bell.

“That’s because it’s you that smells,” Jasmine says, pulling the remote out of my hand and turning off the TV. “And everyone knows you can’t smell yourself.”

“That’s not true,” I say. “I can smell myself perfectly well. And I smell just fine, thank you very much. Simone?” I look to her for confirmation.

“Um”—she looks back and forth from me and Jasmine nervously—“well, Ally, it’s not that you smell bad exactly, it’s just that—”

“You reek!” Jasmine says, pulling the covers off me.

“I most certainly do not!” I say, grabbing the blanket before she can get the whole thing off the bed. We start a tug of war, which she wins, because a) she’s tough, and b) I haven’t eaten in days, so I’m weak and lethargic. I lie back down, sans covers.

“Leave me alone,” I moan. “I’m upset.”

“Ally, you can’t keep this up,” Simone says, sitting down on the side of my bed. She looks at me worriedly. “It’s not good for you.”

“I’m fine,” I say. “Absolutely fine. Except for the fact that I’m cold.” I glance pointedly at Jasmine, who’s still holding my covers. She drops them on the floor. “Hey!”

“They need to be washed, Ally,” she says. “And so do you. Now come on, you’re taking a shower and then we’re getting out of here. We’re going to get dinner. You need to get out of the house. You’re going to start growing mold or something.”

“No,” I tell them, reaching over and switching the TV back on. I can’t believe they’re doing this to me in the middle of Gracie’s Choice. I mean, could they have picked a worse time? Gracie is just about to get custody of her brothers and sisters, which, hello, is, like, the point of the whole movie. “I’m watching something.”