I had a dream last night that involved every single person I knew in high school attending some sort of carnival (I think a recent discussion of my upcoming 10 year reunion is to blame). Everyone was their high school selves, except for me. I had the baby. He’s in all my dreams now, sometimes crying, sometimes being adorable, but even in my sleep I have to constantly think about his care and comfort. Anyways, I was explaining to a girl I haven’t talked to in a zillion years that the baby spit up a lot, but it was OK because it washed right out. “No it doesn’t,” she said “You stink like puke.” “Yeah,” agreed everyone else “You reek.”
And now I’m sitting on the couch catching my breath after a busy morning of meetings, errands and cleaning and I realize I actually do smell really really bad. Time to go find a new shirt, I think.