Trapped in the matrix



Just in case you're wondering about my priorities, apparently they are as follows:

  1. Consignment shopping
  2. Evaluating my pedicure
  3. Escaping the matrix
Not the movie type of matrix, but along the same guideline of thought...perhaps a parallel universe but we called it a matrix.  Lowercase M.  But first the consignment store shopping, which was honestly kind of a bust.

The lady who owned the store would give you $9.50 for items but then she'd sell it for $36.  Flat rate, no matter what.  Like the USPS flat rate shipping.  $40 shoes?  I'll give you $9.50 for them.  $350 designer purse (I'm assuming they'd sell for that, I can't even afford the knock-offs at this point in my life), I'll give you $9.50.  I was really disappointed by the not-cute selection of $36 scarves.  Again, priorities.


After striking out at the consignment shop, I went home to whatever home I occupied for the duration of my dream, I was so wrapped up in the chipped blue polish on the second-smallest toe on my left foot (it's chipped IRL, too) that it didn't initially occur to me that it was unusual to have a tour group come through my bedroom...unless in my dream I was a best selling author of a dream journal and then I guess it would make sense that people might want to tour my bedroom and see where the magic happens.  (Pun intended?  I think so!)

As it turned out, my dream home had a portal to the matrix in lieu of a back door so the tour groups would come through to peek into the matrix.

I decided to take a peek too, except no one told me that if you actually entered it, the portal shut behind you.  Fortunately for me, I drug along my husband and best friend (no Oxford comma, they're the same person).

On the other side of the portal we were on a porch overlooking an Amazonian-type river with hundreds of manned log-rafts carrying passengers down the river.  There was no other way around or off the porch except the river, so we were prepared to jump aboard a raft at the first chance...except it would seem we were quite unwelcome judging by the weapons presented by the men who were able to read the intention on our faces.

For those of you worried about my chipped pedicure in an Amazonian-type forest, I had apparently slipped on my red Vibrams before entering the portal.  I know because I was thankful to have them on the slippery edge of what I knew—somehow—to be a snake and gator/crocodile infested river...I should know which is indigenous to that area but apparently my brain was more focused on my toes.

Back to the story, we were lucky enough to find kayaks and equipment laying in a hidden corner of the porch we were stranded on so the Husband/Best Friend and I loaded up, hauled out and pushed off in the kayaks and set off downstream.

Disappointingly, this is where our cat decided to do his 3 a.m. sprint through the bedroom, onto the bed, across me, and then back out the door.  He likes to make sure my heart's in working order, unfortunately he also interrupted what I would most have liked to see—me in a kayak.  Probably best I didn't see myself meet my end upside-down in snake and gator/crocodile infested waters.


Quotes from today

Me:  We need separate bathrooms, this isn't working for me.
Husband:  Why?
Me:  Because I used to be the tallest person in the mirror but beside you I feel short...and twice as wide...I miss my Skinny Me.
Husband:  Me too.
(silence)
Husband:  Oh crap.  Oh sh...I meant me!  I miss MY Skinny Me!
Me:  No, this conversation wasn't even about you, you narcissist!  You just called me fat!


Husband:  Goodnight, my injured wife.
Me:  You know, I'm really sick of this, it's your turn!
Husband:  My turn!  How's it my turn?
Me:  Because I was injured last time!  And the time before that, and the time before that!
Husband:  That's not my fault!  I don't have the (Persnoppleschmidt) blood that makes you a klutz!  
Me:  I'm not a klutz!
Husband:  You're (Papa Persnoppleschmidt)'s daughter!
Me:  He's not a klutz!
Husband:  That's where (Son) gets it from, too!
Me:  My Daddy's not a klutz!
Husband:  He's damn lucky, I'll give him that.
Me:  Touché.

If you know my dad, you know there has never been a truer statement made.

Ashley Harris Wife & Mom

Ashley is a thirty-something wife and mother of two boys. She enjoys spending time with her family, as well as reading and decorating their home. Her blogging adventures began in 2006 as a single mother and have carried on through marriage and a new life with a husband, a ten-year-old, and an infant.

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