Just when I get to the point that I can’t think of anything to blog about, my demented brain lets me have a dream like I had last night.
This is honestly no exaggeration; I got up this morning and jotted down everything I could remember and, even though it’s going to make me sound COMPLETELY off my head, I’m going to tell you about it.
In the non-existent basement (you know, in our HUGE house?!) we were keeping the following ‘pets’:
3 kittens (2 regular ones and one that was particularly small)
1 large frog
Caterpillars (that we wanted to hatch into butterflies)
These were arranged in cages of various sizes (not the pony, that would just be cruel), but not necessarily in combinations that went naturally together. Now, what was particularly unrealistic about this scenario is that my husband was looking after them (SO wouldn’t happen), and also that the snake kept taking the television remote and wrapping around it so I had to ask Eric to retrieve it.
This would never happen because a) he’s terrified of snakes and b) he’s never far enough away from the remote to let his family have it, never mind a snake.
The puppy and the two older kitten played and frolicked together as you would expect, but one of the very large slugs kept trying to swallow the little kitten (because they were sharing a cage, naturally) and we kept having to remove her from its mouth, all covered in slime, a bit like when B.O.B in Monsters VS Aliens keeps trying to give people a ‘hug’.
The extremely large, friendly and VERY green frog (it looked like it was smiling – imagine Toad of Toad Hall) laid on its back, with a small blanket covering its stomach (!), quite literally doing ‘frog legs’ whilst my husband measured his ‘favourite’ slug (a yellow stripy one) and was more pleased than he should have been at the progress it was making, excitedly showing me how much it had grown on his ruler (!!!). I know, I know, you don’t need to say anything.
The caterpillars didn’t do much, to be honest. They were more like the ‘extras’.
Just before I woke up I had gone down to check that the slug hadn’t actually eaten the kitten and that the smell wasn’t getting out of control. My dream ended with me legging it up the steps with the pony galloping after me screaming, ‘Eric! The pony’s coming up the stairs!’. Oh dear.
I really don’t want to analyse this dream too much because I’m afraid of what it may suggest about me. For the same reason I’d like the rest of you not to, either. I’d also like to emphasise that no animals were harmed in its creation.
I don’t always have such unrealistic dreams, though. Just the night before I had had to reject the advances of Harry Stiles from One Direction on the basis of him being too young for me (oh, and because I’m married, obviously).
He’d predictably chosen me over all the lithe and lovely teens and twenty somethings that were throwing themselves at him and told me that none of them were a patch on me because I’m a MILF. See? COMPLETELY believable 🙂