Our Sordid Life

Or I should say my sordid life, and only my dream life. I dreamed last night that I kept smelling cigarette smoke in the house. Finally one day I smelled it coming from Marmot Dad. I confronted him and he brushed me off. Later on that dreamday/night I opened the door to our under-the-stairs closet (a secret desire for a two-story home?) and there he was with a cigarette in one hand and a flask of whiskey (in a lovely engraved gold flask) in the other. "A-ha!" I said, or words to that effect, "I knew you had a secret life!"

This wouldn't be quite so disturbing except for the fact that my most common dream is the one where I'm engaged to someone else while still being married to Marmot Dad and I'm trying to figure out how to get out of my new engagement (to my credit, I always prefer MD in my dreams, even while I'm dating other men).

Here's what Marmot Dad dreams about: flying. Yep, happy dreams about zipping around in space. What does this say about us????

In other news, E gave me a tongue lashing tonight. I said something about something gooey or gunky to Tooie while we were working in the kitchen together and E piped up imperiously, "Mommy! You should talk properly to Tooie so he'll learn to talk the way we do. If you use those silly words he'll never learn to talk right. So please talk just the way we do to him."

Curious.