Listen.  The lack of daylight hours in my life does not have positive effects on my psyche.

And for someone with an already questionable psyche, this is a dismal turn of events.

I get plenty of sleep, but I’m always tired.

My normal, chipper, morning self has been missing for days.

And trippy things have been happening.  Things that feel like they should be dreams, but they’re not.  And dreams that feel like they should be real, but no.  They never happened.  And sometimes it takes me entire days to figure out what’s a part of reality and what was made up, in my sleep, by my demented little mind.

It’s like I really have fallen down the rabbit hole, except so far no one’s handed me fun little flavored hash cakes or a hookah or some “herbal” tea that would explain this fishbowl feeling that’s been taking over, like I’m watching my life happen from outside of my head.

For example, last night I went grocery shopping.  Dream, or reality?

If you answered “reality,” you are WRONG.  That was a dream.  I dreamt about grocery shopping.  Because my life is that exciting.

Another example:  Last night, I pulled into my driveway after a long-ish commute home from work.  I noticed that 2 couples from across the street were gathered outside, and there was some kind of commotion.  As I emerged from my garage to check it out, a huge black dog with ice blue eyes trotted up to me, sat at my feet, and licked my hand.  Huh.  When I got to the bottom of the drive, I saw what my neighbors were staring at — 2 other dogs, standing butt-to-butt.

“What’s going on?” I asked, shifting my armload of jacket, purse, phone, and water bottle so I could pat the big, black dog, who seemed slightly concerned about her companions across the street.

“These dogs are stuck together,” laughed Brad.  “Like… stuck together.”

How horrible!  I thought.  Did some cruel kids experiment with super glue?  What would drive someone to do something so awful?

Kasey added, “I mean… the yellow dog’s balls are actually on top, now.  He’s so twisted around.”

Ohhhhh.

I stared for another minute.  Really, it was all I could do.

Clearly, he forgot to pull out before the dismount.  Crucial mistake.

“So… are we just going to leave them like that?”  I asked.  Somehow, pulling them apart didn’t seem like a wise idea.

“Google says it should take about 20 minutes, but it’ll eventually pop out,” Kasey informed me.

Thank God for Google.

“Oh.”

Is this really happening?  “How long has it been?”

“Twenty minutes,” she laughed.

Then, pop!

Right on time.

“Ewww, it’s purple!  Poor guy!”  I did not step closer to verify whether it was, in fact, purple.  But I’m guessing she wasn’t lying.  Both dogs licked their wounds for a minute, oblivious to passing vehicles and the 5 gawkers who really could do nothing helpful except wave traffic safely past the pups on the side of the road.

Move along, folks.  Nothing to see here.  Show’s over.

Then, just as suddenly as they’d arrived in our lives, the 3 dogs took off together, as though answering some silent whistle call beyond the limits of our human hearing, and then they were gone.

“Welp, I have to go make dinner,” I heard myself say.

“Yeah, us too,” said Kasey.

“See you guys,” said Brad.

I went inside.

Dream, or reality?

If you answered “dream” because the story involved public sex in a suburban neighborhood, you would be WRONG.

That most definitely happened, I’m pretty sure.  Maybe.  Though I will probably ask my neighbors tonight to verify.  I just hope I ask them while I’m awake, or we really could have problems.  And the good news is that I didn’t try to make a dish with food I’d dreamt I’d bought.  Because that would be cracking the thin ice of “crazy,” and I’m not quite ready to go swimming.

Also, do you ever feel like you maybe have a ghost?  A ghost who messes with your things just to f*ck with your head?  I have a winter ghost.  He likes to take advantage of my SAD.  So far he’s busted 2 computers and stolen my reusable gold coffee filter from the coffee machine.  It’s just gone.  And it probably won’t reappear until I order a new one.  He’s been stealing socks for years.

He tries to bust that crazy ice — to push me over the edge — but I won’t let him win.  He can have that filter.  I don’t need it.

What I do need is some coffee.  And maybe to avoid writing blog posts before I’ve had any.  Because this is what you get, and I apologize for that.

On a positive note, guess what’s arrived?

I’ll give you a hint:  It’s not boxes of brochures about practicing safe public suburban dog sex.

Although maybe I should get some of those, too.  It seems we have a need.

Anyway.

Big changes are coming for this Domestiphobic house.  Stay tuned.

*Some of you asked that I keep you notified when I publish House Tours on Re-Nest.com.  I haven’t.  Here are the 3 I’ve done so far, if you want to check them out!

Matthew’s Eclectic Park Avenue Pad
John and Jaime’s Contemporary Woodland Escape
BJ & Megan’s Traveling Farmhouse Homestead

If you know of anyone within a few hour drive of Fayetteville, NC who’d be interested in having their house photographed for the site, let me know. :)