Last Night I Dreamt I Went To Manderly Again...
Oh, how I wish I had only dreamt of a Gothic Victorian mansion haunted by the memory of Maxim De Winter's first wife....
(Those of you who never read Rebecca are scratching your heads right now. But GO. Read it. It's du Maurier's masterpiece. And then go watch the 1941 Hitchcock film of the same name. Yes, I know it's in black and white. It's still awesome.)
What I did dream was that Lana cut her hand off in an airplane propeller accident, and the doctor at the ER refused to put her hand back on UNTIL I COULD PROVIDE PROOF THAT OUR LANDSCAPING MET THE REQUIREMENTS OF OUR HOME OWNER'S ASSOCIATION.
It was a horrible dream. Bureaucracy with an added side of gore. I was actually quite happy that Husband's alarm went off and woke me from yelling that the state of our yard had no bearing on the urgency of reattaching our daughter's hand.
Never mind the fact that my dream daughter evidently plays with airplane propellers.
I realize that I have pretty much fallen on my face in failure on the Nablopomo month...if I post three times today will it make up for not posting at all over the weekend?