Now we grieve 'cause now it's gone.

This is number 300. Bow down and kiss it's slender feet.

I had a dream last night that I met Hugh Hefner's girlfriends, something I've wanted to do. I hugged Kendra who would not be my first choice to hugh (Bridgette...swoon) and it was a very cold hug. They were all very cold and I was incredibly disappointed. We were at some department store where they were promoting handbags and not a lot of people were there. I scrounged around looking for even one Playboy bag that I would carry but they were all duds...and I was literally crawling on the floor. The store was really disorganized in my dream. Maybe it represents my house these days. Regadless...

I was then with a friend and we heard the girls talking about ditching this place so they could go drink Candy Shops, which are fancy drinks from Dave & Buster's. I ran over and gave them directions but they didn't seem very receptive. I hope they got lost. I was then headed for the escalator which was stuffed between two walls like it should have been a stairway (again, possibly my digs), and Kendra was there handing out orange wristbands. She looked like a perfume girl. On the escalator, I passed a very angry looking Hef and I told him his girlfriends were miserable bitches (which I hope to God isn't true).

Then I woke up. Depressed.

I'm a little blue these days. I guess that's why I was asleep on my couch by 9:00p. Then I was up all night with a sick son who was throwing up on anything that would stand still, including my feet. So it's the middle of the night and I'm washing cat toss off my paws. I didn't cry no matter how much I wanted to because I was still half asleep...too incoherant to cry. But I'm not throwing a pity party or anything. I'm laying low until I decide what kind of change I need to make to adjust my attitude. It needs to be wrenched on.

Viva la weekend.