Political Paraphanilia

On Thursday the alarm went off unceremoniously at 5-something in the morning. The Husband got up and started his day. Ten short minuets later the second alarm went off, signaling to me that it was my time to crawl out from under the warm pile of blankets and face the 38 degree morning that waited outside. Instead, I hit the snooze, grabbed the clock, and quickly shoved it under my pillow. It went off again 4 minuets later. (note: I should really get a standard alarm clock that has a 9 minuet snooze function).

Determined to take that morning walk with my boys, I crawled out of bed, stumbled across the floor, tripped on my slippers and made my way to the bathroom. I realize this sounds like the beginning of the kind of story where I flashback to the night before and then tell you about all the tequila shots I did. But I promise it wasn't like that. I never get out of bed before 7 after drinking tequila all night.

Eventually I found my sweat pants, my long sleeve, my hooded sweat shirt and pulled them on one by one; then I headed downstairs with eyes half closed. At some point I proceeded to pull the wrong string on my sweats which resulted in a huge tangled knot around my waist which was most disturbing to me at that moment. The Husband took one look at me and noted quite calmly that I should just go back up stairs. I looked at him blankly not wanting to give in and ate half a day old muffin.

When I was done with the muffin, I started to fall asleep in the chair I was propped up in. I heard the Husband say "just go back to bed". I mumbled back something about being a slacker and then I pulled myself back up the stairs. No way could I handle the 3 mile loop with the dogs.

I crawled into bed, fell immediately to sleep, and proceeded to have the type of dreams that only come when I am this type of tired and am technically taking a nap. Don't you always dream weirder when you are napping? I won't bore you with the whole dream; the plot in my unconscious mind is inconsequential. What is important is the product placement.

In my dream I was at my sister-in-law's kitchen. She was making homemade pasta from her brand new Hillary Clinton Lamp-Pasta Maker Combo. Yes, one part over sized table lamp and one part pasta maker, joining forces to create one creepy homage to Senator Clinton. The large table lamp had a ceramic base which was molded to the likeness of a bad caricature of Hillary Clinton's face (warning scary link). The light bulb poked up through the crown of her head, lampshade hanging diligently over her high cheek bones and big toothy grin. The back of her head sported a trap door where you would load the pasta dough. To activate the pasta machine all you had to do was pull her bottom lip open and the pasta would come out. I believe we were making fusilli - why? Because it's silly.

It was brilliant and disturbing and f-ing weird. The election is definitely getting to me.