Yeah, so I’m pretty sure the line between my real life and Tumblr life have started to blur a bit too much for me, particularly in my subconscious.
Last night I had a wicked vivid dream where I was on a busy business lady business trip somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. For some unexplained reason, I brought the boy along with me, but instead of being the six-year-old that he actually is, in my dream he was about two-years-old. Why I brought my kid along on a busy business lady business trip is besides the point.
I was running super-late for a Very Important Meeting, and because I was unfamiliar with the town, I got lost. So in a fit of panic, I called my Tumblr buddy mediocremommy (who I met IRL last fall) to ask for directions. As is her way, mediocremommy was a doll, and she said she would be happy to watch the boy while I went to my Very Important Meeting. So I drove to her house, which is totally amazeballs (at least in my dream), and dropped off the boy so that he could have a quik-e playdate with Jack and Gigi (who, mysteriously, were also two-years-old).
As I was taking the boy out of his carseat, he barfed all over himself and all over my Michael Kors suit. The obvs questions are: why did the boy barf, but more importantly, why was I wearing a Michael Kors suit? Mediocremommy took us into her house, and washed our barfy clothes, while mediocredaddy let me borrow an outfit that can only be described as “lumberjack chic.”
I rushed to my Very Important Meeting in town (which upon reflection, was a job interview), and the first question the busy business lady I was meeting with asked me was, “Um, what’s with the threads?” And I was all, Imagine that I am wearing a pinstriped Michael Kors suit. And the busy business lady who was interviewing me was all, “Whatevs.”
After my Very Important Meeting, I went back to the mediocre house to pick up the boy. Mediocremommy was setting up her house for a Fancy Shindig that evening, which was all very Martha Stewart, so I had to grab the boy and rush back to the airport so that we wouldn’t miss our flight back east.
Mediocremommy said to me, “Would you go with the white hydrangeas or the purple ones?” And I was all, Um, I don’t know. Maybe the white ones? And mediocremommy was all, “Good call,” although I think she was just being nice.
Throughout my dream, I kept thinking to myself, sheesh, mediocremommy is really tall. Plus, she’s really nice. And Jack and Gigi’s bedrooms are really fancy. And why is everypony in the Pacific Northwest so chillaxed? And why do the Busy-Lazy boys still live in the New York metro area? And how does one wash kiddie barf off of a Michael Kors suit in a washing machine without ruining it?