So I bathed last night and scalded my sheets clean in the washer. Getting into bed clean with sparkly clean sheets is one of the best feelings.
And then I dreamt I was at my parents' house, baking cookies in their kitchen the dark. And I turned off the mixer, but it still kept mixing. I unplugged it, and it still kept whirring. It was dark, and there was this persistent whirrr, whirrrrrr, whirrrrrrr coming closer and closer.
I tried to scream for my mom - because this had me in a blind panic - but no sound would come out.
Seriously, I woke up with that choking hysteria, the kind you get when you dream you're being attacked and cannot make a sound. But realizing it was because of a possessed mixer? WTF? One more WTF dream, although I am glad this one isn't sexual.
Now? Working working. Happy to be out of the house - because boy, do I go kind of batshit when stuck at home for too long. I know this is hard for you to picture.
But? Having all kinds of stress on the verge of being imposed on me. Except that I am not willing to accept it. I'm building a little emotional fortress of keep your self-created stress to yourself.
Because, as one of my closest friends said, "What's with all the stress? It's a non-profit. It's not the fucking hunt for Osama bin Laden."
And that is my current mantra. "It's not the fucking hunt for Osama bin Laden."
One of these moments, I'm going to say that out loud.
The crazy mixers, though? Are a different story entirely.