I woke up drooling, face down on the couch with the decorative button stuck to my forehead. My mother had left me three more messages. I texted her that I was fine, just very busy. After a moment's reflection, I sent a second text.

Me: Do you have cancer or something?

Talia, Destroyer of Egos: Are you still high? Call me immediately.

If she wasn't experiencing concern due to a fatal diagnosis, then my first instinct had been correct: the call was to ream me out. ...