restless night
I had some truly odd (and off) dreams last night. No wonder I've woken up feeling like I've not really slept. O.o
Apparently I came home one day to find that the entire, and I mean the entire bottom shelf of my wardrobe had been cleaned out and was completely empty. Which is, you know, not a good thing at all since that's where most of my new and unworn stuff is kept until I decide to take them out for showcasing. It's also where I hide the nice hangers. And new towels. And new makeup.
I can't remember how I got it back though; the only other vague memory I have of this one is of sitting on the floor next to it and attempting to rearrange a pathetic collection of small items in a corner of the empty space.
Don't really recall how it happened, but it seems that unclemuthu had become a colleague and so had open access to my office (everyone has access to my office because the HR Dept is sequestered in a corner). One day someone (of unknown identity) hypnotised him and he made his tranced way over to my desk and when I wasn't there, lurked around until I made an appearance at the door. Whereupon he stalked over and stabbed me. Twice. After which I attempt to fight him with my bare hands and he smilingly rakes me across the arms.
It is singularly not pleasant being stabbed/slashed by a listlessly grinning unclemuthu, trust me on that.
Having said that, however, while the proverbial h*** is raised and he's arrested, I pick myself off the floor and realise that the huge smatters of crimson gore appear to be congealing. By the time he's in the police car downstairs I look 100% unscathed. It's a miracle!
Then of course there is a lengthy process in which I attempt to at least sue his pants off but can't, because despite camera evidence and eyewitness accounts of the attack I appear to have sustained no bodily harm whatsoever. Sheesh.
OK, for some reason, the entire SatBand has been trapped in some kind of enchanted mansion and it's been arranged such that we can never really find the people that we really want to find. I discover that I am doomed to always find myself in the room as unclemuthu and we decide to be pleasant (after all, he did stab me). Next thing I know he's bothering me when I'm trying to lie quietly looking at the sky by insisting that he sing me the new lullaby he's written.
I refuse, of course, and in response he gets up and demands that I give him a neck massage. Like, really...
All very amusing, I'm sure, but I'd much rather be able to daydream these things and actually get some proper shut-eye. GAH.
Apparently I came home one day to find that the entire, and I mean the entire bottom shelf of my wardrobe had been cleaned out and was completely empty. Which is, you know, not a good thing at all since that's where most of my new and unworn stuff is kept until I decide to take them out for showcasing. It's also where I hide the nice hangers. And new towels. And new makeup.
I can't remember how I got it back though; the only other vague memory I have of this one is of sitting on the floor next to it and attempting to rearrange a pathetic collection of small items in a corner of the empty space.
Don't really recall how it happened, but it seems that unclemuthu had become a colleague and so had open access to my office (everyone has access to my office because the HR Dept is sequestered in a corner). One day someone (of unknown identity) hypnotised him and he made his tranced way over to my desk and when I wasn't there, lurked around until I made an appearance at the door. Whereupon he stalked over and stabbed me. Twice. After which I attempt to fight him with my bare hands and he smilingly rakes me across the arms.
It is singularly not pleasant being stabbed/slashed by a listlessly grinning unclemuthu, trust me on that.
Having said that, however, while the proverbial h*** is raised and he's arrested, I pick myself off the floor and realise that the huge smatters of crimson gore appear to be congealing. By the time he's in the police car downstairs I look 100% unscathed. It's a miracle!
Then of course there is a lengthy process in which I attempt to at least sue his pants off but can't, because despite camera evidence and eyewitness accounts of the attack I appear to have sustained no bodily harm whatsoever. Sheesh.
OK, for some reason, the entire SatBand has been trapped in some kind of enchanted mansion and it's been arranged such that we can never really find the people that we really want to find. I discover that I am doomed to always find myself in the room as unclemuthu and we decide to be pleasant (after all, he did stab me). Next thing I know he's bothering me when I'm trying to lie quietly looking at the sky by insisting that he sing me the new lullaby he's written.
I refuse, of course, and in response he gets up and demands that I give him a neck massage. Like, really...
All very amusing, I'm sure, but I'd much rather be able to daydream these things and actually get some proper shut-eye. GAH.