And then I woke up and it was all a dream.

Tired. So tired.

Woke up this morning from an anxiety dream - that I had woken up twenty minutes before I was supposed to be somewhere and there was someone else in the house, using the shower, moving things around. I met her, and she seemed all casual and was a friend of The Smit that I'd never heard of before. It was like there was someone else who'd moved into a prominent position in his house/life without me being aware of it. And all my stuff kept being moved around. And then I went into the living room, which was my parent's living room, and a bunch of folks were there, including The Manajerk, who described me as "the bane of [his] existence". I kept yelling at him to fuck off and calling him names, and then finally I threw him out of the house, since it was my parents' house (or at least living room) and he had no right to be there and he was a horrible waste of space. I found my clothes and was about to run out of the house, at the time when I was supposed to be somewhere, when I woke up. It was six am and I didn't have to get up until seven, but still, better than waking up an hour and a half late.

Aside from that, it was a great day. Studio weekend day 1, I am a terrific group leader/organizer, and I bought two pairs of cheap pants and a new dress, and I got a new cell phone that is not dead.

I have lost all my phone numbers, though, so if you are someone who I call or who calls me, please send me your number.