…dreeeeeams. The kind you have in your sleep, not the “one day I’ll be a Krispy Kreme donut taste tester” kind. I have always been a wild dreamer. Long, convoluted tales are my jam. Just ask Chris. I think his favourite conversations in our marriage have started with me saying “I had the weirdest dream last night.” It’s something I’m actually kind of proud of. Like, if you appear in my dream, I will send you an extremely long text the next day describing the dream and your co-starring role.
But I’m about to get real weird. Because I need to get this off my chest. Guys, the most common theme in my dreams is toilets.
I have had more dreams than I could ever care to count, in which I’m on a quest to go to the toilet, and when I finally get the chance, I have to do it in front of people. Either it’s a toilet out in the open on a street corner, or a toilet at a party with clear glass walls and people partying around me, or a biiiiig communal toilet in which there are just rows and rows of toilets, and people chilling on them. That kind of deal.
Sometimes it’s just part of the dream, sometimes it’s the whole dream. But 100% of the time, it’s weeeeeird.
Have I just revealed some deep, dark part of my subconscious by telling you this? Hmmmm.
But moving on, guys. Something un-awesome happened to me this week.
I got bit.
GUYS I GOT BIT.
I GOT BIT BY A SPIDERRRRRARGHHHHHHH.
So it was lurking in my freshly laundered leggings as I pulled them on before work on Monday. I felt the pinch, yanked it straight out of my pants and squashed it in the process, rendering it unidentifiable. It was black. Because I’m a tough Australian, I didn’t worry myself about it. By the evening the bite had almost completely gone down. I wouldn’t want it to happen again, but it wasn’t the worst. The worst part was the fact that I had spider guts squished onto my freshly laundered leggings, and I didn’t feel right wearing them.
One time I also got stung by a bee in my freshly laundered sock.
And wriggled on by a lizard in my freshly laundered bed sheets.
Am I doing laundry wrong?
Oh well. Let’s end this uncertainty on a high note, eh? Iiiiiiiiit’s links time!
I looove these brass-trimmed ice cream spoons. Like I really want to buy them. Like I might even do it.
11-year-old me is weeping (in a good way) over the fact that we live in a day and age where you can make your own rainbow disco ball.
This balloon poetry is so great!
Everybody needs this little pep talk in their life!
I am so intrigued by these iced raspberry lattes. So intrigued.
PS If you get bitten by a spider, don’t do what I did. Get it checked out. Every time.