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September 27, 2005
Dream a little dream of Bradley Cooper
Is it the far-off call of the merengue music perpetually playing outside our window? The sounds of small children roaming around and climbing trees at 2 a.m.? Whether it's the siren sounds of my neighborhood at night or not, something is disturbing my sleep, and it's manifesting itself in weird, kinda ominous and very specific dreams. For example, last night I had a dream that I was the chef from "KItchen Confidential" (the TV show, not the book). In my guise as this guy, I had 10 children, and believe you me, it's no picnic trying to provide for 10 kids on a chef's salary -- and how to keep up with all of their schedules? (I used an elaborate organizational system, modeled after the one developed by the efficiency-expert parents from "Cheaper by the Dozen.") (Again, the book, not the movie.)
I also, for reasons not fully made clear to my subsconscious, had an IV drip in my arm the whole time, which made cheffing all the more challenging.
Time to look into a white noise machine, I think.
Posted by Jen at September 27, 2005 07:19 PM
Comments
Instead of a white noise machine, I elect that we fashion some sort of device that electrically shocks (or maybe just shoots to kill) the people who rattle our walls with booty-bass 24 hours a day.
Just a thought.
Posted by: Nate at September 28, 2005 09:42 AM