At Least They're Committed

Dreading the coming week, I’d had a couple glasses of wine Sunday afternoon and headed to bed early. Like, 8-ish. So when I awakened and it was still dark, I figured it was 4-ish and I wondered why the boys were still watching TV and Edison’s Black Dahlia got defensive when I asked, and it was after that I realized it was only 1:24 a.m.

Too many thoughts, too much to do this week. I never got back to sleep.

It’s 12:22 p.m. and I’m sitting in my office and there’s a marvelous storm brewing outside, spattering rain, rolling thunder, all the cliches that I know I could do better than were I not so tired. So, I lock my office door, turn off the light and curl up in fetal position under my desk, my coat under my head, to close my eyes for a few minutes.

As I start to fade out, I’m suddenly transported to the ranch on a sunny day and Ted Nugent is buck naked, hairless body hopping from rock to rock in the Pine River, his package dangling between his wide-spread legs as he tries not to fall into the cold water for, well, several obvious reasons.

I bolt up so quickly in my office in the dark, I nearly bash my head on the underneath of my desk. “Ew!”

It goes without saying, there will be no chance of going back to sleep. I crawl back into my office chair, then tell Brian and Melanie about the dream and they both say, “Ew!” and that they now have that image stuck in their heads and I am quite pleased. Sharing the dream. Am I considerate or what?