Dreams of Dooce

Hello Interwebs, I've missed you! I'm sorry I've been away, it's just that my criminal exam was making me want to hurt people. And by people I mean myself. And by myself I mean my bank account. Shopping is a great way to procrastinate. So CrimLaw is done, and now I have to prep for ConLaw. Which makes me want to hurt people. And by people I mean my Playstation. Because the fricking network outage means I have no Netflix on my television and it makes me want to hurt people. And by people I mean... well you get the idea. Law school makes you violent.

So, due to stress and finals and sickness and all that lovely crap (yes, I said lovely crap) I have been having SUCH bizarre dreams. More than usual. Some of them have been about my male classmates and would make my mother blush. Which is saying something because I am not entirely sure anything CAN make my mother blush.

Last night, I dreamed of Heather Armstrong from Dooce.com. We're old buddies you see, in that she lives in my neighborhood so I've run into her exactly TWICE. But that isn't how my brain works. No, my brain turns two random encounters into a RELATIONSHIP. I dreamed that we took our toddlers to a baby party thingie and she offered me a ride home. In one of those SUV-limo thingies. She had some errands to run and I was so desperate to see their new house (which sounds amazing IRL) that I agreed to tag along and help out. Our girls played and seemed to get along, so we decided to make a day of it. When we got to the house it turned out to be this enormous red brick converted firehouse! I got the grand tour and kept thinking to myself how I must be experiencing what it's like to be cool. Because they are cool, Heather and Jon, and maybe I could be cool by being in close proximity? After the tour she went and grabbed me a small gift bag, which contained some swag an adoring fan or adoring corporation had sent to her. "Thanks for keepin' me comp'ny." She even remembered my name and introduced me to Jon.

Okay, seriously. My dreams are whack. But if anyone could renovate an old firehouse and make it the object of everyone's jealous desires it would be Dooce herself. I'm not a crazed fan, I promise. I just have extremely odd dreams. Does that mean I won't scan the neighborhood for signs of a looming red brick house? No, it does not.