Feel like someone beat me with a sack of oranges. Last night just as we both fell asleep DH got an emergency call to the hospital. Insomnia struck, I couldn't sleep without him, finally did and he came home at 5 a.m. He got two hours sleep, was up at 7 and went to church with his dad. I swear the man is bionic.
I crashed again and had weird dreams. Dreamt that I was at a Paul McCartney concert with girlfriends, when I was much younger and he was much younger and cuter (20-something) and he invited me back to his hotel room. Me, the raving PM fan, was giddy at the idea of having sex with my favorite crush. I got there and he is sitting in an easy chair drinking milk and eating cookies. All he wants to do is talk about how stressful the music business is. Disgusted, I leave, vowing to track down Mick Jagger, who doesn't have issues.
Resolved today to do something productive and then write at least 3 pages. It's a dreary day outside, so I finally tackled the spare bedroom closet. Starting digging through all that mess and lo and behold I find roll after roll of Christmas wrapping paper on the bottom of the pile. ROLLS of it! I mean, we're talking four or five years worth. I know what happened. Every year I knew we had Christmas wrapping paper, but couldn't find it so we just bought more. Either that or two rolls decided to get together, have a glass of wine and heated sex and make other rolls. Yeah, that's it. Christmas wrapping paper making babies. Santa and Frosty getting it on and giving birth to this roll of grinning penguins. Smiling penguin wrapping paper. Tacky, but hey, it was on sale.