I went out and got way too drunk Monday. Boilermakers for lunch kinda set the tone for the rest of the day.
So when I woke up the next morning, downstairs on the couch, it really didn't surprise me. I had a blanket instead of my usual covering of newspapers, unpaid bills and cat hair, which was a bit odd, but not really.
My trash can was full of beer bottles, which is also a little strange, since I usually keep them on the floor.
I felt really bad. Really bad.
I staggered into the kitchen. Water. Need water. Push purse out of the way to make coffee.
Purse? I don't have a purse.
I guess I snapped and went on a purse -snatching spree. That's the most logical explanation. This one looks familiar, somehow. I'll check for ID after I get showered and dressed.
Getting upstairs,I notice there's a woman sleeping in my bed.
Now, that's unusual.
It's the one who broke my heart last month. I've been thinking about her a lot, so I must be dreaming this.Well, dream or not she's too peaceful-looking to wake up, so I try to shower quietly. That means not loudly exclaiming, "I hate my job!" every ten seconds.
If she's a dream, she'll be gone. Hell, if she's real she'll probably be gone.
Still there, she's just waking up.
I mumble something incoherent.
She gives me a sleepy smile. She's beautiful when she wakes up. She even smells good.
I mumble some more.
She looks at me and I realize she can tell I don't know what's going on.
"You sure were tore-up last night". That's for sure.
Turns out she was "in-the neighborhood" drinking at a nearby pub and thought she'd drop by at two in the morning so she could crash on my couch.
"You don't remember any of this?" I'd shake my head, but I'm too stunned and hung-over to do much of anything but stare. Damn, she's pretty. I manage to tell her this.
"I know.You must've told me that twenty times last night.You even wrote me a little poem about it." Oh oh. I can only squirm and wonder just how pathetic I was.
"You were really sweet, too bad you passed out". She stands up and kisses me.I'm really glad I've just brushed my teeth. Her breath is soft and clean. Dream or not, I've got to have her. Right now.
She's pressed tight against me, so I know she can tell how I'm feeling.
With my last scrap of willpower I call the office and mumble something about my car being broken. Always one step ahead, she's already called in. Gotta take the kids to the doctor. They're in Florida.
Now I know I'm not dreaming. I never have dreams this good.