what a loser

Yes, I'm talking about myself. I really need to get more exciting dreams. It all started when I lost the final hairbrush in the house around two weeks ago. Gwynnie looks like a scarecrow and I keep trying to brush her shoulder length, blonde hair with my fingers. It's horrible. And I refuse to pay full price at Target or the grocery store when I can get three for the same price at the dollar store. The problem is, when I'm out and about, I'm not thinking about brushes or the dollar store.

The night before last I dreamed I found the brush. There it was right on the bedroom floor, the one that was silver at the core with the black bristles poking out of holes. The blowdryer kind of brush. I know it's around here somewhere. But that dream was so good. There it was. The brush. The lovely, wonderful brush.

And then I woke up, forgot the dream, until later, when I remembered the dream and said to Tyler and Gwynnie, "I dreamed I found the brush last night!"

The sad thing is, it seemed perfectly normal. I mean, it's been a hair crisis here at the Samson abode. Dreaming about finding the hairbrush is akin to unearthing buried treasure or finding your name in the paper within the list of people who are owed money.

I'm such a dweeb. A brushless dweeb, still, at that. A brushless, mundane dreamer of a dweeb, actually. I need to get out more. Obviously. Maybe the dollar store would be a good place to start.

grace,

lisa