265 cranes and counting

I'm still alive. Work was just CRAZY. I was so exhausted after I got home yesterday that I crashed. I went out and had lunch with my darling husband today and barely made it back to work before this huge rain curtain swept over Seattle. I got dripped on a little, but the full force mercifully was a little later blowing in, so I escaped. Of course, I'd left my umbrella at work because it was sunny when I left!

I had an awful nightmare this morning and woke up breathing hard with my eyes wide open. I dreamed that something horrid had happened and Patrick didn't love me anymore. I kept telling myself, "This must be a nightmare, this must be a nightmare. This can't be happening." When I did finally wake up, it was such a huge relief to realize that it was in fact a dream and he was right there beside me, still loving me! Totally a traumatizing dream. I'd vastly prefer the gore that I used to have. You hear that, dream self? Gore is preferable to emotional torture. Thanks.

...and then I stepped on cat shit. /facepalm I got up to go open the blinds and such, and Some Kitty Who Shall Remain Nameless But Only Because I Actually Don't Know Who Did It had somehow dragged a turd out of the box and onto the one rug in the house where I couldn't see it, so of course I stepped right on it in my bare feet. Ew! Fortunately it wasn't fresh, so it wasn't squishy (sorry if I made you throw up just now, but it's true), and I could pick it up easily with a paper towel and get rid of it. Then of course I had to wash my foot in the sink. Ugh. I figured today was not going to go well, but as Patrick said when I told him in revolted tones about my cat shit experience, maybe everything bad had already happened and afterwards the day would be great! So far, he is correct.