I wish my kids could've seen that

I have decided that we (the kids and I) are going to start using our garage as a main point of entry into the house. I think it will cut down on some dirt and clutter. Maybe. Okay, probably not but right now it seems like a good idea.

Anyway, in an effort to make this change more feasible, Mr. Tonks and I worked on the garage this evening. I was putting some things in the loft area above the garage which consists mostly of wood joists.

Good thing those trusses were there.

I had just finished putting the leaf blower away and was getting ready to climb back down the ladder when the ladder fell. Using my swift, catlike reflexes* I grabbed one of the joists and held on for dear life. I dangled, about eight or nine feet above the concrete floor, for a couple seconds before Mr. Tonks (my hero!) rescued me and returned me safely to ground level.

My only regret, other than the big bruised knot on my shin, was that my kids were not awake to see my stunt work. I have no doubt that JP would think his mom super cool. I love it when he thinks I'm cool.

*Go ahead and laugh.

The worst dream ever

The dream I had last night was wretched. Wretched.

I dreamed I was going to the bathroom. It was one of those dreams that was vividly real. The kind that leaves you disconcerted upon waking because, in your sleepy state of mind, you're not sure what's dream and what's reality.

So, as I said, in my dream I was perched on the toilet, answering the call of nature. Midway through my business I woke-up, terrified to find myself in bed. I felt around cautiously, certain that my hand was going to eventually hit a wet spot. It didn't, thank God. Can you imagine that conversation at two in the morning? Having to tell my husband that his 28-year old wife had wet the bed? Something, incidentally, that I've never done- not even as a toddler!

Needless to say, my remaining five-hours of sleep were not good.