Last night I decided, out of boredom and discontent really, to go to bed at about nine thirty. It was a restless night of sleep, and every time I woke up to toss and turn and wriggle around trying to get comfortable, all I could think was, “I’m stuck between a dog and a beagle.” It’s very difficult to get comfy when you are pinned under the covers, a canine on each side of you like two huffy paperweights who, when woken, will glare and sigh and seek revenge by flopping their entire body weight on your vital organs.

I dreamt about Sam last night for the first time in a few weeks. He was driving me to work in his truck (apparently I worked in a tropical locale), only instead of sitting in the passenger seat I was seated in the people-bucket at the end of a very long fireman ladder extended straight up from the bed of his truck, crying and terrified that he would drive under a bridge and I would meet my demise. He stopped only to speak and flirt with women along the way, and I finally climbed down when I saw two friends of ours and pleaded for a ride from them instead. Strange.

I also found out that we are not getting the house I was dreading living in. I’m relieved more than I can say. The house was too tiny (less than 1100 square feet!) for three adults, three dogs, and a child, and was way too pricey as well. I’m also glad that they are looking for something a bit more size-appropriate without making me feel like I’m some sort of spoiled princess-type who actually expects to put a bed in her bedroom. Their realtor doesn’t like me either and was actually quite rude to me when I met him, so I can say already that this whole “moving” experience is a bit less pleasant that I’d expected (and I really didn’t expect it all too be daisies and unicorns to begin with).

Other than that, things are quiet. I fully expect to go home to my Xbox tonight, eat a peanut butter sandwich (all I have left in my house) over the sink (don’t feel like washing dishes), and do laundry. A thrill a minute, I am.