A dream I had, my crocheted skirt, and an obsessively clean Boyf.

Darling, you rock my world. I am scared of Massachusetts Christians though. Also I am reliant on spell check for the correct spelling of Massachusetts.

Here is my crocheted skirt. I am pulling a face in the office. Also, I appear to be particularly buxom today.

This weekend we cleaned the house. Like, as in, Shan dog lost his Virgoan mind and cleaned EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING. We scrubbed the skirting boards and spot cleaned all the walls, and EVERYTHING was removed from the lounge. And then he strutted about and enjoyed the cleanliness. Of course, I'm enjoying the cleanliness too, but I started suffering from a peculiar combination of cleaning-related guilt and resentment, the kind of feeling heretofore only associated with my mother's obsessive cleaning binges. Creepy.


Right, and the final thing for me to say: I had a dream last night about Jane Eyre. Kind of. I was Jane Eyre, a journalist, Mr Rochester was a newspaper owner, and Mrs Rochester was a sort of Egyptian queen-style maniac, paddling up and down a creek with her attendants in an Egyptian-style boat. And she kept doing this thing where she tore the skin off the insides of her wrists and bled everywhere and then cackled wildly (ooh-er). I (Jane Eyre, the journalist), ran away with one of the boats and ended up white water rafting to get away from crazy Mrs Rochester.

Jane, Jane, Jane. etc. Did you know that Lake wrote a song about Jane Eyre?

The best thing about this dream (apart from it's general awesomeness) is that I can isolate the origins of the individual bits. So, the Jane Eyre base of the dream comes from my recent obsessive audio book listening of the book, and the blood I think is a particularly nice touch (in the book her brother Richard Mason visits Mrs Rochester and Mrs Rochester tells him she's going to drink his blood. BLOOD. Check it out). The journalist stuff has it's roots in the interview I heard on National Radio on Sunday morning about the relative sordidness of journalism offices. The Egyptian queen (Cleopatra) bit comes from my recent watching of Rome (pretty awesome).

Finally, I just want to talk about how awesome my Mrs Rochester was - she was not only a combination of Bronte/Cleopatra awesomeness, but she also owed a lot to the Mrs Rochester of Wide Sargasso Sea. I am the world's most literary dreamer?

Love and stuff xxxx