Last night I dreamt that my husband suffered a heart attack, but that I saved his life with mouth to mouth resuscitation. He just fell over onto a diaper changing station and I was all “OMG, I GOT THIS, I ACTUALLY DID THIS FOR MR. ROGERS JUST LAST WEEK.”
Of course then we argued because he was so true to real life, all “you’re over-reacting, I just fell asleep for a second.” “OH, REALLY. ON A DIAPER CHANGING STATION.”
I dunno, guys.
Thankfully my brain switched gears to a wild tiger tormenting me from our backyard while I watched out the window, crying.
I usually have figuring out my misfirings down to a science, but I’m blaming this one on watching Wilfred and eating cheez whiz right before bed.