Last night I cried out like a girl* and snuggled up against Elizabeth because I had a nightmare**.
In the nightmare I was looking for my dog's dog dish and this person I couldn't see said, "It's in here."
"Here" was a dark room. All of a sudden I was face down and the disembodied person had put the dog dish on my back. I couldn't get it off and I woke up screaming.
*I am a sexist. Last night I told Elizabeth the only reason she won Wii Boxing was because she threw "pussy punches," which apparently Nintendo favors over the brutal, swift and punishing force I meted out in a hailstorm of blows which in real life would have won the fight. She got mad. I told her I was sorry, it was insecurity. How would SHE have felt, I said, if I had beat her at, I didn't know, Wii Flower Arranging?
**Who gives a shit about someone's dreams? I'm sorry. This is the third post of one and another posts about the midnight slurry of my mind.
But back to the dream. A dog's dish? Really?
Minutia
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I've not moved. I kind of want to, but every time I think of some super
clever and unique name for a new blog, I check and find out it's not unique
at all....
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1 comment:
My five year old kicked my ass in Wii Boxing and then I got him on the XBox Kinect to dole out the retribution.
His defeat sucked the air out of whatever self esteem he'd managed to cobble together and he said he was going to throw us in a lava pit again.
He always says that when he's mad.
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