Wow... I am really not feeling so much of the good. I went swimming this afternoon and then, after a shower, settled down for one of those chlorine-and-sun-scented naps, as you do, and I had awful nightmares. I mean, the imagery wasn't so bad, it's just how upset I was--some guy was in my house putting weird stuff in my food, just to be funny, and finally he spit on my pizza and I just blew it. I just started shouting "GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY HOUUUUSE!" like a maniac, and everyone's just staring at me, including the guy himself, who was just having fun. (Okay, it was Luis Guzmán. I love him on "I Love the '90s," so I have no idea why he's spitting on food in my dreams. Why are you and your á defiling my pizza, Mr. Guzmán?) And no one believed I was being serious until I actually shoved him out and slammed the door, and suddenly everyone was really, really scared of me and didn't like me anymore. Like, The Lovely Emily was crying and wanted to go home. And my estranged father was there, in one of his business suits, and he sort of looked at me like, "Uh, honey, what the hell was that about?," and I actually looked him in the face and said, "I'ma throw YOU out, too, so help me God," and then in real life my mother woke me up because... she had ordered a pizza for dinner.
I took a piece upstairs very quietly and ate it by myself.
(I don't know what the dream is supposed to have been about, but I was musing to myself, and the phrase "LiveJournal" sort of struck a chord. So... apparently y'all don't need to spit in my "Movies in Fifteen Minutes" for fun or stuff Planter's peanuts and old spinach in it, and everything be cool.)
Now I'm cold and I can't get warm. I felt sort of bad yesterday, too. I have business email to write--seven years ago I never would have believed that phrase would come out of my mouth--that aren't getting written, and I'm not getting any work done. I just want to curl up in bed all day and sleep.