Between 11 am and noon today, I had an extremely realistic nightmare that I left my window open and my computer on my windowsill and snow came in through the window, destroying my laptop. I woke up breathing heavily and trying to rearrange my ICal, so I would have time to go to the Mac Store until I saw my computer sitting dejectedly on my desk (dejected because I spend more time at Uno's than working on my thesis, but who am I kidding? my computer would rather me blog and google-read than work on my thesis anyway, right?) and yelped in raucous joy that it was alive, alive, alive.
Mollie (after Jenn dropped her computer): Oh man, that's like dropping your baby.
Jenn: Um, no, it's not.
Point being that with just over 30 days left before I hand in my thesis, the time in which I have horrifying anxiety dreams has begun, huzzah. Which brings me back to fifth grade in which my BFF received a tamagotchi (one of the few, but elite words that rhymes with my name) for her birthday, hated it, and gave it to me. Since they were banned at my school, I made my mom take care of it during the day and it lived for a marvelous 27 days until we both began having anxiety dreams about it dying for like four nights in a row and realized that we were living unhealthy lives. Those things were awful-- one day all cute and big-eyed and the next, they are sitting in their own feces or worse, they have X-es for eyes and are floating away to tamagotchi heaven. It's just kind of a shame that you can live your whole day thinking of something and then slip into dreamland and expect to escape and no, there it still is, haunting you in your sleep until you wake up in a cold sweat, screaming "Not my laptop arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhegaddddddddd."
Speaking of nightmares, courtesy of Best Week Ever,the top 10 reasons clowns are scary. You're welcome.
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