For instance, this: last night I had a weird dream (I was dating an affluent young Vanderbilt who was also a drug dealer on the side, and who was beating me up every time I confronted him about the stash hidden under his bed. His younger brother, who was the black sheep of the family, witnessed one of these encounters and rescued me from evil boyfriend, and then spent the latter half of the dream basically stroking my hair and telling me how wonderful I was and how he and I would ride off into the sunset together as soon as I felt like climbing out of his arms and ending his monologue of sweet nothings.) WEIRD. But the end part left me feeling all warm and fuzzy, and then I woke up and realized there's a kid with a pee diaper in my bed, it's still raining and gloomy outside, my throat still hurts and tries to choke me every time I swallow or yawn, the house is still covered in toys, the dishwasher still needs filled, and there's a load of cold, wrinkly clothes in the dryer to be put away.
It's so stupid, but those few moments of coming out of a dream and into reality, especially if a dream was romantic (albeit bizarrely) and reality is fairly tedious, can leave me in a funk that lasts for HOURS. Please tell me other people have this problem. Slash MENTAL ISSUE.
Wow, I can't believe this is what I'm writing about on my six hundredth post. I should be doing a list of six hundred awesome! facts about me, or something, since I never got around to doing it for post one hundred, as is tradition. Hmm. How about six awesome! and/or kind of sad and random facts about me? (Hey, I'm sick and uncaffeinated. Random is all I can manage.)
1. I've watched Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice and Emma more times than I can count. I've watched almost of the different versions of them, too, though my favorites remain as follows: the Sense and Sensibility with Emma Thompson and Kate Winslet, the BBC Pride and Prejudice with Colin Firth, and the Emma with Gwyneth Paltrow. I also own and love Becoming Jane, the movie based on the life of the author of these novels. I have not, however, managed to finish even a single Jane Austen novel. And I like to read. I have no explanation for this, for it cannot be that I just really don't like her books. OBVIOUSLY I like the stories, so... what's the problem?
2. I was the editor of the school yearbook my senior year. This, uh, is far less impressive than it sounds. It was a small school, and pretty much no one else even wanted to do it. Nor did I, by the end of the year.
3. When I was little I was totally compulsive about certain things, like making my bed. It had to be perfect, and if anything or anyone messed it up before bedtime, I would cry and flip out because I just knew I would never get it so PERFECT ever again. Ditto about the arrangement of stuff on my dresser. I dusted it every day, then spent probably twenty minutes making sure it was exactly as it had been the day before. If I was unable to do this to my satisfaction, I would sometimes sneak up at night and start fixing it again. I also had to wash my face like four times a day, and then if anyone touched my face, I had to wash it again because their evil oils would no doubt make me break out! Hmm. Reading all this is making me wonder how on earth I ever got over it. Having kids, I guess. Because now I can't really think of anything I'm helplessly compulsive about, though there's plenty of things that I wish I were more compulsive about if only I had the energy.
4. I used to swear that my first boy and girl's names would be Dante and Felicity. Or possibly Genevieve, it depended on the day. But Dante was written in stone.
5. I much prefer baths to showers, as long as I know for a fact that the tub is clean. This is mainly because I am nearly incapable of shaving my legs without cutting them unless I'm in the bath. I don't really know why this is, but it is a definite fact. Just the other day I gave myself a truly gruesome, two-inch long flesh wound on my thigh, all while shaving ever so carefully. It might have been the generic razor, it might be the extra-strong leg hairs from those darn prenatal vitamins, but it also might just be that I'm practically handicapped when it comes to handling sharp objects. I fantasize about the day when I can afford electrolysis.
6. I sucked my thumb at night until I was nine. That's NINE (9) years old. I also slept with stuffed animals until I was about ten. I actually thought that their feelings would be hurt if I didn't take them to bed with me, even though for the last couple of years I didn't even want them in there. So yeah... I felt guilty about inanimate objects.
Well, that was fun! Join us in another hundred posts for "Seven Fun Facts"!
Oh yeah! Shelly from Scenic Overlook won my contest last post, so email me, Shelly, and you'll soon be the proud owner of