Last night I dreamt I went on a tour of the United States. Our bus driver/tour guide? President Barrack Obama.
He was an excellent tour guide and wore a snappy suit with the obligatory flag lapel pin. My husband was there, and lots of elderly sight-seers were there. It was wonderful. We met Al Roker in California. We rode Route 66. And apparently, we were able to see the country, from sea to shining sea, in just one day. Except Blake threw up in an empty Cool Whip container somewhere between the Grand Teton National Park and the Grand Canyon. So we flew home, bummed out. It was pouring rain out and our neighbors brought over their pets to cheer us up. No, it wasn't their reality pet entourage of a dog and a cat. It was three dogs, two very tiny kittens and three fish. All of us (people and pets) laid in our bed and just hung out... which is weird becuase we have two perfectly good couches in the next room.
