Buzz Saws and Bad Bette Davis Impressions

It's funny, in an I'm-so-annoyed-I-could-snap-at-any-second kind of way.

I talked a couple of days ago about Carlos and the Breathe Right strip, and how it ended up on his elbow in the morning. I had several people ask if the strips work, and I said, Yes, most of the time.

Last night was not one of those times.

I went to bed a little after ten. After my day of yardwork and cat attacks, and cooking pasta for dinner, I was tired. I crawled into bed and was asleep before I knew it.

Carlos came to bed a little after 11PM, and the snoring began before I knew that either.

Buzz saw. Charlie? You're snoring.

Buzz saw. Charlie? You're SNORING!

Buzz saw. Charlie? YOU'RE SNORING!!

Buzz saw. CHARLIE? YOU"RE SNORING!!!!!!!!

I grabbed my pillows and headed into the guest room where I slept all night. Even MaxGoldberg and Tuxedo had had enough of the Buzz Saw and they joined me in bed. the three of us commiserated and cuddled and slept until morning, when a light came on and a hand nudged us.

Why are you sleeping in this bed?

Snoring!

Oh, I'm sorry.

So, I slowly pull myself out of bed, head into the bathroom for morning rituals, and then out to the kitchen. Suddenly I turned into every 1940s actor or actress, speaking in that affected English accent.

Fo-ah times, Cholly. Fo-ah times I begged you to stop snoring. And fo-ah times my wishes were ignored. Fo-ah times!

Poor Carlos. he had to put up with my rant about the snoring, and then my bad Bette Davis in The Letter impression.

But tonight? The guestroom is all his!

Breathe Right It's Only Brunch

It's a gorgeous day here in Smallville. Just last Sunday it was raining and sleeting and they were talking snow--which never happened.

This Sunday it's going to be 82-degrees, clear skies, beautiful breezes. It's the perfect day to clean up the yard, clear away the last bits of the tree that fell a month or so ago; bag up some more leaves; do some pruning.

Screw that! We're going to brunch!

Our friends Roger and Thomas are members of a private club here in Smallville; they joined because the club--called HuffawFawFaw Hall--has private cabins, and when they have out-of-town guests, their friends can stay at the HuffawFawFaw with their pets.

But the HuffawFawFaw also has a really great brunch and we've been invited, so we're doing that instead of yardwork. I mean, yardwork, champagne? It's a no-brainer.

One rule of the HuffawFawFaw Hall is that men must wear a jacket-and-tie. Apparently it's like Somewhere In Time over there and there are strict dress codes. I'm putting a 2009 penny in my pocket so I can get home later--that's a Somewhere In Time reference for those who haven't seen the film. But see it; Christopher Reeve and Jane Seymour; quite romantic.

So, Carlos and I decided to have a light breakfast of toast, juice and coffee this morning because we're meeting the fellas at around noon for our trip through time. And I'm looking at the t-shirt Carlos wore to bed last night. There's a piece of tissue hanging on it, and I'm just about to tell him, when I realize it's not a tissue or piece of paper.

It's a Breathe Right Strip. He has been doing the snore more lately so he's taken to wearing one--to strapping it on, as he says.

But, as I say to him trying not to spew juice all over, you need to strap it on your nose and not your elbow.

I laughed so hard I scared the dog!

To Sleep Perchance To Dream

Carlos snored again last night.

He put on the Breathe Rite strip, or strapped it on, as he says, and still he snored. Two times I nudged him and told him to turn over. The third time I think I socked him; he only remembers the one time. But the trouble is, when Carlos snores, I have the weirdest dreams. I don't know if it's the snoring, or the fact that my mind knows it isn't going to get much sleep, so it shows me crazy pictures, but that's how it goes.

I dreamed that Jessica Lange was selling her house to me. Only she didn't want to discuss the selling of the house, she wanted to talk about the new diet she was on, and how easy it was and how much weight she'd lost. But she looked chunky to me and I wasn't sure if I should tell her or not.

So I woke up. Nudged Carlos. Drifted off.

I dreamed the Octomom was chasing me. Not that she was trying to get me to take care of her children, or mow the lawn around the shoe in which she lives.....There was an old lady who lived in a shoe and had so many children she didn't know what to do...I think she just wanted to talk and talk. Everywhere I turned there was the Octomom talking to me. Now, truth be told, these days that really isn't a dream, it's more of a reality. Still.

I woke up. Nudged Carlos. Drifted off.

I dreamed we were looking at houses to buy....I guess we weren't that interested in Jessica Lange's after all. Carlos and I are wandering through this condo owned by another gay couple. It was pretty, but all the art on the walls was already ours. They even had a stained glass piece that my dad made for me, but they said they had it commissioned for their house. I showed them my Dad's signature at the bottom....who signs stained glass?....and they still told me it was theirs.

I woke up. Socked Carlos. Drifted off.

So this morning all I could think about was Jessica Lange, the Octomom, and stained glass.

I have always had strange dreams. One, that I had eons ago, and still remember, was about Gloria Estefan. I didn't like Gloria Estefan, or the Miami Sound Machine. I didn't want to Congo, and I seriously hoped the Rhythm Was Gonna Get Her. But then i had a dream that I was a roadie on a Gloria Estefan tour--and this was right around the time of the bus crash that broke her back--and suddenly I loved Gloria Estefan.

And I still do.

Dreams. Go figure.