Day break

Well, Lori spent yesterday afternoon cooking chicken pot pie and curried rice for dinner. Feel free to speculate as to why this might be. I think I might know the answer.[*]

But by the time I was done with dinner, I was ready to suggest that a curried chicken pot pie recipe might be worth inventing.

Unfortunately, as good as the dinner(s) tasted, the culinary dissonance apparently didn't sit well with my subconscious. After being awakened at about 4:00 this morning to deal with a spurious work problem, I went back to bed with a ferocious headache, and the knowledge that I'd be getting up in about an hour.

In that hour, I had one of the more stressful dreams I can remember, to the point that hours later, I'm getting tense just remembering it.

In the dream, Lori had to take e5 out for some errand, leaving me with Amelia. While my back was turned, one of the kids next door came over looking for e5, and left our front door open. Amelia, seeing her opportunity, wandered off. After some moments of panic, I found her in a nearby(?) parking lot, sitting in some other child's car seat which was left on the ground behind their car. She was playing with this baby's toys and splashing in a puddle. We had an appointment of some sort, and couldn't afford this kind of delay to get her cleaned up. At the same time, a babysitter we'd contacted earlier has called back to find out if and when we need her to show up. I tell her I'll call her back, and after hanging up, I realize I don't remember her name or number.

After extracting Amelia from the stranger's car seat and taking her home, I find that Lori and e5 have returned from their errand. And so have the neighbor kids, along with some of their cousins. Apparently they were having some sort of family reunion next door that is spilling over to our house. I start trying to shoo the kids out of the house, but the next thing I know, Amelia is crying after having her nose accidentally bloodied by the antics of one of the neighbor's cousins. Meanwhile, the parents of these cousins (or whoever) start showing up looking for their kids. Pretty soon there are several dozen people milling around on our front porch, in our yard, and wandering through our house. I tell them all that they have to leave, because we supposed to be going somewhere. My indignance and anger are rising quickly, but I don't have time to address all the problems and chaos.

Most of the people leave the house, but settle in on the porch. One older lady becomes quite indignant when I stop her from coming in the front door. It's too hot for her to sit outside, she tells me. I stand my ground and she sulks off to sit with someone else on the porch. There are kids everywhere, including in the garage. The kids are chasing the chickens, and many of the chickens are looking pretty bedraggled - missing feathers, bleeding from small cuts, etc.

Meanwhile I can't find our car among all of the others that have arrived. I find out from Lori that she had to park it down at the end of the road, in front of some shop(?), because our driveway was too crowded with the migratory family reunion.

When we finally get to our car and start trying to get the kids buckled in, two plain-clothed police officers arrive, and start writing citations for our busted tail light, our wobbly side mirror, the fact that the car is slightly crooked in the space, etc. As I'm trying to plead my case with them, I notice my cell phone vibrating in my pocket - surely the babysitter trying to find out why I haven't called back. I can't manage to get to the call before she gives up, since I'm still debating with the supposed police officer about whether a side mirror has to be stable or not. It's probably too late for the babysitter anyway, so I reluctantly ignore the phone, until I realize...

...it's actually my real phone, that I'm in my own bed, and it's time to get up and drive to Cincinnati.

It's not good to be mentally exhausted by 6:15 in the morning.