I Used to Waist My Time Dreaming of Being Alive

I woke up this morning to the sound of birds chirping outside my window. It was a lovely sound. Mr. Jones came over to kiss me goodbye before leaving for work, and I said to him, "I had a bad dream." As he braces himself to hear which of our children died in a horrible, fiery car crash; with my eyes still closed, I say "I couldn't find the shoes I wanted." He erupted into laughter. "Well, I went shopping, and I went to the store where I had found the sandals I wanted. They weren't there. So I asked the sales lady if they had them, and she said, 'That was from our Spring line. We've moved on to summer, sweetie.' I started to cry, and I went to leave the store. Some 300 pound man tried to stop me from leaving by sitting on me. Some man I'd never seen before came to my rescue and told him to get off me. I was going to pay for the stuff I had in my hand and he didn't need to freak out the customers!" My husband said something about how on the totem pole of bad dreams, that really wasn't one. He said, "It was as if I had said, 'I had a really bad dream last night--I totally couldn't find one of my shoes!'" Clearly, he doesn't understand my need for the perfect pair of sandals. We are so going shoe shopping on Saturday.