Once again I had another lousy furniture dream. And I'm the only poor b****** in the whole world that has long, drawn out, totally annoying furniture dreams. I woke up roaring like a fat lion with a sharp clothes hanger in my ear. "Karen! This is not right!. Most of my uneventful working life was in the furniture business. I unloaded it, loaded it, put it together, took old sofas to the landfill which I immorally bounced off Ralph Nader's head. I made it, sold it, delivered it, fixed it, cried over it for thirty years. I observed a stylish sales woman try to sell another stylish lady a beautiful oak dresser when at that moment a raccoon decided to take a voluminous leak through a a ceiling tile right on the ok dresser! What are the odds of that? Who could ever believe again that God likes furniture? If I make it to heaven there better not be any furniture there! I need to believe that Jesus making furniture is just a bad translation!
Anyway, back to the dream. Most of the night I was trying to deliver some furniture and I could not make out the address on the sales slip. I went from one house after another getting increasingly frustrated. I went up to one house and rang the door bell. This old lady tells me "You have exquisite flesh" I know no one will believe any of this, but it is sadly ever last word true-"Exquisite flesh" who talks like that-even in a lousy furniture dream! I felt like mooning her, but then I would have lousy prison dreams for the next thirty years. Big breathe in. Big breathe out. Relax...relax.. go to sleep.