Um, ok, yeah, not really, but I am mad at my Place of Employment, which has suddenly decided that things like Facebook and Snapfish/Shutterfly/Photobucket and anything with blog in the address are not necessary for the daily functions of our jobs. WhatEVER. When it is extremely slow and quiet, it makes the days long and torturous.
This prevented me from reporting on the craziest thing until just now. This morning, I had a dream that I was in my parents' garage, trying to herd cats. For the record, it was every bit as annoying as the expression implies. Also, in my dream, the cats could talk, or somehow make their thoughts known to me. What? I don't know. Anyway, I was talking to Stephen this afternoon (telephone calls to the spouse aren't banned. Yet.) and he said, "You dreamed that last night? I had a dream last night that we both got kittens and we were chasing them all over our house. And I think they could talk."
I realize this is probably only interesting to us, but seriously, how often do you have matching dreams with your sleepmate? Well, maybe a lot and we just don't know because we don't talk about it.
I was supposed to work out tonight and instead I slept on the couch for an hour and then ate approximately nine billion pretzel rolls. I should have worked out. I feel icky now. But the pretzel rolls were delicious.
I also spent this evening working on our baby registry. HATE. Hate hate hate. Especially hate Babies R Us, which seems to be diametrically opposed to A) waiting until your child is born to learn their sex and B)one piece infant sleepers. You know, the plain little jammies that newborns spend ALL their time in because you don't dress your newborn up in cute little outfits and if the kid is due in December, it's too cold to leave them lying around in a onesie? This is extra stressful because I know how women are, and I know that many of them will be looking at my registry, snorting at my stupidity and lack of sensibility because I am not registering for things like one-piece sleepers. I should not care what these women think, and I am totally aware of this, but it does not stop me from stressing.