And I am not referring to St. Patrick's Day--I'm referring to the fact that today is Padhraig's birthday, not sure of his age though he must be ancient. What a cliche he is--an Irish person having a birthday on St. Pat's Day. Carrie and he are hosting dinner at their house we will sing "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow" and "The Old Bairny Down the Lane," a traditional Irish birthday song.
I ventured out in the slush today wearing a pair of dead cute fuzzy boots I found at Circle Thrift--they make me look mythological, like my feet belong to that of a forest creature. Unfortunately, after stepping into a puddle and finding my feet soaked, it occurred to me that perhaps I had left the house in boot-shaped bedroom slippers, not meant for outdoor fare. Too late now.
Lots of bad dreams last night--the main one was the direct result of me having read Stephen King before bed--the details mirrored the climactic scene in the novel. The gist of it was that I was married and had two kids and our whole family was being terrorized by this crazy, supernatural lady (who looked suspiciously like my old boss). She was determined to murder us--she said, First, I'm going to force the two of you (my husband and I) to kill each other while the children watch and then I'm going to kill them. We tried to escape several times but since she was this monster, she kept materializing whenever we thought we were safe. I woke up to find Ernesto nestled in my head, biting at my hair. The horror! Worse than the dream! Ernesto has also started going under the bed and crawling up into the mattress part which is discomfiting to say the least, to have this creature meowing and moving directly underneath me. No wonder I have trouble sleeping.