Secrets of Victoria
Somewhere along the line, I got signed up to Victoria's Secret mailing list and so pretty much every day, I receive an email or a postcard that tells me how I can go purchase a super sonic bra and matching panties for a mere $75 plus 4% off. It's tempting, especially since it was only about a year ago that I learned my actual bra size and so now know what to look for. The problem is that most bras in my size are unflattering; look like something you imagine a professional wet nurse wearing. And since I should be trying to save my money to buy a house and pay off my credit card bills, I really don't need to be distracted by today's missive, an offer to buy the new "Biofit Uplift...Now in 20 sizes and 10 colors." If I do happen to buy this amazing bra, praised by InStyle magazine, I will also receive a free pair of panties. This particular bra offers the following: "padded uplift, lightly padded uplift, shaping uplift, contouring uplift, subtle uplift." That's a lot of uplifting.
Have been having a bunch of disturbing moving dreams. These are dreams where I'm frantically trying to pack up all of my stuff to move into a new house. I don't have enough boxes and the cats are running wild and won't be put into carriers and are escaping through the back yard fence while the car to take me to my next home idles at the curb with an impatient driver who keeps honking the horn. And the places I'm moving into are not in very good shape. In my dream last night, I was with Shawn, examining this possibly new house that had no doors or windows and the previous tenant had left a lot of her stuff. I opened a cupboard in the kitchen and found it stuffed with expired boxes of Honeycomb cereal. We went into the bedroom and found a huge wooden box filled with her receipts and a large blow up doll with flat, shark-like brown eyes. She also had left her wallet and I discovered a $50 bill in it as well as several uncashed paychecks. This made me think that she had been murdered or kidnapped. In another part of last night's dream, I was with Jodie at a writing retreat and we had to perform some kind of public skit and so we decided to do a scene from William Inge's Picnic, a play I did in high school. Of course, I didn't remember the lines, but I winged it and it seemed to go over okay. Then I was stuck on an elevator that wouldn't stop on the floor I needed--it kept whizzing up and up and up until I was sure we would fly through the sky. Clearly, these are anxiety dreams, but I don't know why I keep dreaming about moving. I have no plans to move. I guess the positive part of these type of dreams is that I wake up filled with relief that my rent is affordable and that I want to stay where I am, at least for awhile.