DH and I both had eerily vivid dreams last night. Mine was horrific – frightening enough to scare Jason Voorhies – while DH’s was a bit more appropriate for our lifestyle. We just had a conversation about his dream. It went exactly something like this:
DH: So I had a dream last night that I got fired today.
Me: Really? Why?
DH: They thought I was faking a sick day and they said I had to pack my stuff and go. And so I gathered my things and started for home and I just kept thinking, how am I going to tell her?! And when I got home the house was empty and some stuff was missing, so I called your cell to tell you we’d been robbed and you said you were in a U-Haul on your way back home to Louisiana with the Pineapple and you were getting married!
Me: So, this is like your best day ever dream?
DH: Whatever. Anyway, so I found a job in Houston and moved down there to be closer to Pineapple and you – well, Pineapple, not you – but I never got to see her because I was always gone for work. And she called your new hubs “daddy.”
Me: Was he cute?
Me: My NEW DH…was he cute?
DH: I don’t know – I never saw him. And it was so detailed – I even know how much we made on the house – well, you made on the house because you got all the money. It was awful.
Me: Not really.
Me: Well, it doesn’t sound like I did too bad. I mean, I got the kid, I got all the money from the house, I got a new DH who was probably smokin’ hot – not that you’re NOT smokin’ hot – because you are…I bet he looked just like that cute guy from Heroes…or maybe Edward. *sigh*
DH: You are so mean.
Me: Not really – anyway – you know that dream could never be true. I would never leave you. I love you!
DH: I know – I love you, too.
Me: Unless I had an opportunity to become a vampire.
Big picture lesson here folks….DH is afraid of me. His first thought after losing his job was not “what will we do” or “how will I find a new job in this downturned economy?”…no, it was “HOW WILL I TELL HER?!” Mwah-ah-ah-ah…evil plan in full effect.
UPDATE: DH did not want me to post this. And now, he’s a wee, teensy bit upset with me and is requiring that I clarify one point. He says he’s not scared of me – it was more of a general “oh-crap-how-am-I-gonna-tell-her-we’re-moving-to-the-poorhouse-and-what-are-we-gonna-do” kinda moment.
But, dear readers, we know the truth. This man is terrified of me in all of my 5’3″, 110lb *cough* glory! (It’s my blog – I can lie about my weight all I want.)