Well, Hello, Mr. President

Last night I dreamt that a friend and I were to appear on Good Morning America with none other than the president. The reason behind it seemed unclear even in my dream.

However, it was quite clear that Obama sat between my friend and me on the pre-show couch, and I found his hand making its way up my thigh.

This development found no protest from me.

*******

I also had night sweats for the first time since getting off citalopram.

That development was met with cursing protests from me. Four times I woke up in drippy disgust.

I’m hoping this was due to an anomaly in internal body temperature or my hot presidential dream, and not a new trend.

Blargh, tiredness.

*******

I also dreamt that Scout shat on me.

Which sounds about right.

I feel bad that she’s so alone, but she’s such a jerk. Porkchop tried incorporating Scout into her flock, and it was a bit of a disaster.

Porkchop’s hens welcomed Scout into their coop, and Scout reciprocated by pecking their eyes.

Such an ungrateful little hen.

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