I'm so weird

I'm so weird.
This morning I was awakened by my cell ringing--not by its usual alarm clock ring of the Hallelujah Chorus (why the heck did I pick that ringtone to wake me up?), but by its actual phone ring.

"Hello?" I sat up groggily.
"Uh, Chels, I have kind of a weird question..." the voice at the other end said.
Nothing new. "Shoot," I replied, rubbing my eyes.
"Uh...What's the plot of Much Ado About Nothing?"

Oh boy; you ask me this in the morning?

"Umm," I mumbled, "you'd better get a pen and paper..."

Five complicated minutes later, I was done. And I don't think she understood quite everything--and I don't think I was quite clear, either; it is, after all, Much Ado About Nothing. She should be very happy that she wasn't asking for the plot of The Comedy of Errors, or Midsummer Night's, heavens forbid.

Which brings me to my point: I think I'm the only person I know who would get a call in the morning, asking for the plot of one of Shakespeare's craziest play. I'm just weird like that, that I know stuff.

Yeah, I have mad skillz.