I had a
dream nightmare last night that I simply MUST tell you about. But I can’t go right into the dream…I have to give you the rest of the Valentine’s night story, so you get the full effect, as well as fill you in on other things that I have only hinted at in previous posts…So, bear with me. K?
I already told you that Zohrhubby rented “Secretariat” on Valentine’s day, and that I thought it deplorable in every way. Zohrhubby and I have a little game that we play, whereby the person who picked out the movie is responsible for whether or not it sucked. The last two or three that I’ve picked out have been pretty good. The last four that he’s picked out have been indefensibly BAD. So, clearly, I am currently in the lead. When he asked which movie to rent the other day, he gave me the choice between “the horse movie” or the “wall street” movie. This was our text convo:
Okay…so the horse movie it was. Moving right along now.
You also might already be aware that my husband has the potential of becoming the subject of an episode of “Hoarders”. If anything should ever happen to me, I want you to do ONE THING for me: Go to the house at least once a month to check on things. My children might literally be buried alive in the house. My husband likes THINGS. The type of thing may change from one moment to the next, but by that time, he’s already won at least several auctions and the “thing” of the last moment is already on its way to my house, sometimes in duplicate or triplicate. It is a lot of work for me to keep this under some sort of control. And, I must say, HE’S GOTTEN MUCH MUCH BETTER. But it’s still an issue. I know, because I watch a lot of Hoarders, the tv show. Not very long ago, I saw an episode where this lady shot her fiance in self defense because he was all cracked out, and wasn’t prosecuted for it, and so she became very depressed. Ten years goes by, and her then-small son is now 18. He’s got long hair and is obese and has black fingernails. They live in a house that has trash on the floor. Not just mess. TRASH. Fast food containers (with the freakin’ FOOD in them) all over the floor. They walk across this crap to get from place to place. The kitchen is not usable anymore. The sink is stopped up with shit. She’s got a mountain of coffee grinds and filters on the counter next to the coffee pot, and when the coffee pot gets too dirty to work properly, she goes out and buys a new coffee pot and puts it on the counter in front of the old one. So, there’s like 8 old coffee pots lined up behind the one she’s currently using. The bathroom shower door busted, and the glass was just left there, in the tub, so they DIDN’T USE IT ANYMORE. She would take sponge baths (allegedly) out of the sink in the bathroom and wash her hair in the sink. Anyway, all that has nothing to do with the fact that one day her sister sends her a horse figurine…that looks like a Barbie horse. She falls in love with it, and begins collecting them. She’s spent hundreds or thousands of dollars on these horses, and they fill every available shelf or counter space in the house. It was ridonkulous. Really!
As an aside, I should tell you that I record all the Hoarding tv shows and I watch in sheer disgust. Zohrhubby thinks it’s nuts to WATCH it. I tell him that I am “Hoarding” tv shows, which has no negative effect on the amount of “shit” that accumulates in my house, as opposed to, oh, say, EBAY.
So, back to Valentine’s night. Zohrhubby goes to put the movie in, and I simply state: “I hope this movie is not crappy, so that it makes me fall asleep and then I will have shaved my legs for nothing.”
Okay, I’m sorry, but I had to tell you that part. It is part of the background for the dream. And also, you should know that I am a notorious utilitarian leg shaver. Many women are. There are only certain occasions whereby I am guaranteed to shave my legs: A scheduled trip to the doctor (And if it’s winter, this ONLY applies to doctors who will MORE LIKELY THAN NOT ask me to remove my pants); before getting a pedicure; and, most obviously, before getting a massage. A romantic interlude with ZH used to be on that list. Now, not so much. It’s just a lot of trouble, is all I’m saying.
That will make you appreciate the fact that I did, in fact, shave my legs on Valentine’s Day because he got me a card and a gift, and I only get him a card and a tube of hair gel. (What? He was OUT!) And on top of that, the card said “Remember when we fell in love?” and at the bottom it said, “We we so stupid.” But in my defense, we were stupid. And the inside made up for the smart ass outside. So, did I shave my legs as a “Gift” to him? No. I shaved my legs because it showed that I cared. That’s why.
Anywho….let’s get on with the story. You already know too much at this point, anyway.
The movie was crappy, and I declared as much not more than twenty minutes in. He stood by his decision, and defended it. We sat there through nearly two hours of utter crap, and finally, I said, “I’m going to sleep. This is dumb.”
“No it’s not…but hold on..let’s just watch this race and then we’ll turn it off.”
The race was like the rest of the movie. Predictable. A horse cannot act. I’m sorry. And apparently, neither can Diane Lane.
So, there’s the background for my dream.
Last night my dream began with me cutting myself shaving and bleeding to death. Zohrhubby was left alone to take care of my children. But I had to float around and watch everything that went on, but had no control over any of it. He tries and tries to keep up with the mess, but he just can’t. Then, he begins collecting…you guessed it…HORSES.
I woke up in a cold sweat 15 minutes BEFORE my alarm went off this morning. And I scrubbed my coffee pot before the timer turned it on. I don’t think I’ll ever shave my legs again.