Yesterday morning, between the alarm and the snooze, I dreamed that there was a roach crawling on the toilet seat. Of course, I made Scott go and check the bathroom before I would even get out of bed.
This morning between alarms, Scott and I were at the house for the walk-through, and it was obvious that some work had been done: the majority of the house had been painted yellow. The shade of yellow was actually fairly neutral and unoffensive. The problem was it looked like the painters had worked in the dark. Whole patches of the wall were still white. The kitchen was worse. They had painted the walls robin's egg blue, given us white appliances, and white-washed my beautiful dark wood cabinets! I started to cry. Scott took out two pieces of bread and shook the crumbs into the carpet. I guess we all handle frustration differently.
Of course, I woke up realizing that it had only been a dream. But I found myself in the shower daydreaming about how many things could go wrong today and tomorrow. I still haven't shaken myself out of it. Hopefully the cinnamon rolls Scott's currently icing will make it all better. If not, he's driving today, so I'll be doing deep breathing exercises in the car.