I’m sort of a wreck this morning. I had some of the worst dreams ever last night, just one after the other. I kept waking up and trying to shake it off, but alas. Featured were large spiders and scorpions landing on the back of my neck and fighting while I calmly asked someone to please please please help me get them off before they killed me. Later I dreamt of being pursued by FBI agents for something I didn’t do and hiding in dark alleys crying because I didn’t have an alibi to protect myself. I also had a really long involved dream about my old boss, that I don’t remember very well, but he was trying to save me from something, but in the end couldn’t help me. Dear universe, you owe me dreams about sexing up rodeo cowboys. Or at least a sweet dream or two about Indie Rock Boy, okay?

So I got up, choked down some coffee and went over to play with tubenerd and oiran‘s dog, Mr. Jones (Casey Jones, but he prefers formality when he’s addressed). That made me feel a little better. Man, I wish I could get that excited over a ball. Maybe later I will just go sit on the couch with Mr. Jones for a while. It will probably do us both some good.