I had a really bizarre series of dreams last night.
First, an acquaintance of mine showed up to the house (which, of course, was a mess). She kept hugging and kissing me and it soon became apparent her intentions were a little more than friendly, if you get my drift. I was saved from an embarrassing situation because she saw a roast chicken on my kitchen counter and immediately started to eat it. I wanted to tell her “No! Don’t eat that! It’s been sitting out all night!” But I didn’t, either out of embarrassment that there was a chicken on my counter that had been allowed to sit out all night or fear that I’d find myself in an embarrassing situation; I’m not sure.
Then, other people started showing up in my house – people I didn’t even know – and they started to eat the chicken, too, along with the bags of peppers from the farmer’s market I’ve been hoarding in the freezer in the garage. Beloved must have been out of town on business, because all I could think was, “I can’t tell these people not to eat this chicken because it’s been sitting on the counter all night, but Beloved’s going to kill me because all they’re all going to get salmonella and sue us.”
At which point I was saved awakened by the sounds of The Young One in the kitchen making his lunch.
And the moral of this story, boys and girls, is if you wake up in the middle of the night with a killer hot flash and menopause-induced anxiety attacks and are driven to the sofa so you don’t keep your husband up because a tired husband is a cranky husband, don’t fall asleep while watching Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner.
I still don’t know where the whole hugging and kissing thing came from. And I really don’t want to.