GRUMPY TODAY . . .

Had a traumatic dream last night, in which I:

1. Had to dredge my flooded basement and clean it in order to host a bridal shower.
2. Had to hold the bridal shower in the backyard instead, and share space with my brother's drunken barbecue and his drug-addled friends.
3. Had to threaten my brother's friends with calling the police and civilian arrest if they didn't stop using Ecstasy and smoking up next to my pregnant guests.
4. Had to prevent my brother from harassing Mike Mussina, who was practicing his pitching, also in my backyard (I WISH!).
5. Was back in law school and had just broken up with a faceless love.
6. Was so upset that I felt the need to physically hurt someone.
7. Accordingly entered the law school food court near midnight, approached the lady at the McDonald's booth, ordered small french fries, then stabbed her in the heart with a sharpened straw, thereby killing her.
8. Escaped without being noticed, went outside and sat on the stoop of the law school building, eating my french fries and pondering what to do next.
9. Eluded detection by the police, aided by the fact that no one had witnessed the murder.
10. Went into hiding for a day, fearful that the guys working at the donut booth across from McDonald's would recognize me if I ventured back to the law school.
11. Went back to the law school anyway, returned to the scene of the crime, ordered two large sodas, gazed at the blood still staining the floor in the food court, and scurried by the donut booth in case the guys there looked up and thought I looked familiar.
12. Strolled through the law student crowd laying flowers by McDonald's, and observed everyone's saddened faces, but felt no grief myself.
13. Met a friend who asked me why I was holding two large sodas.
14. Threw one of the sodas away, still full, and lied to my friend about why I had thrown it out -- "tasted funky," I said.
15. Went home and sat in front of my mirror, looked at myself and asked myself why I had killed the McDonald's lady -- I couldn't think of a reason.
16. Weighed my options: either I could turn myself in, pretend to be remorseful and hope the authorities were lenient to me, or not turn myself in and live with the fact that I was a murderer.
17. Wondered, days later, why no one had caught onto my trail yet, and started to become paranoid, thinking I was being secretly observed by the police, who had had me in their sights all along.

Then, thankfully, I awoke. To a gray, rainy day. Again. Bleh.