I had a nightmare I was a brunette
It was awesome. The store was pretty much empty and I was unwinding from my day. Yes, it is lame that shopping for food helps me unwind, but I take what I can get.
I'm in the canned veggie aisle and walking towards me was a woman with a t-shirt that read:
I HAD A NIGHTMARE I WAS A BRUNETTE
I did a double take.
Wow, this was very awkward, you see. As I was wearing a t-shirt that read:
I HAD A NIGHTMARE I WAS IN PUBLIX AND A SKINNY BLOND WOMAN WAY TOO OLD TO BE WEARING A B*TCHY ATTITUDE T-SHIRT WALKED BY ME. (the print on the shirt is a little on the small side)
We kept passing each other as we each made our way through the store.
I started getting angry.
First of all, this is what you had a nightmare about?
Not losing your job? Or having a family illness? Or a terrorist attack?
But the thing that really got my goose was that she wasn't even a real blond. She had roots. And they were brown.
Look I'm all for hair dying. I've never done it, but the second my grays start coming in, Mrs. Yoy will be a regular at the hair salon. Trust me.
I wish I had had the courage to say something witty to Ms. Blond, but of course, as all these thoughts whirled around my brain, I said nothing.
Instead, I came home and wrote about it.
And I feel much better.
Thanks for listening, readers.