I haven't slept very well this week. Last night I had my re-occurring zombie dream. In it, my family and I are trapped in my parent's house while zombies roam the streets. We've been there for a while, and my kids desperately want to go outside. But, as you can imagine, they can't unless they want to become zombie food. It's a very distressing dream. The zombies don't bother me too much, but listening to my kids whine drives me insane.
When I have that dream, it means only one thing: I'm stressed. Yes, I can see all of your shocked faces right now. Part of it stems from the effing nonfiction book, but the other part comes from taxes. I know, I know, I need to let the sh*t go and just relax. I will. Eventually.
This weekend should help. Plus, me not working on the effing nonfiction book should make a world of difference. I can hardly wait!
