Spinning on that dizzy edge

This week is so fucking fired.

My hopes to see my cousins, their families, and my aunt at her cabin over the 4th of July weekend like we all did last year got shot down. My backup plan to visit a couple of weeks later when my parents are going is looking less likely. Now I have to decide if driving seven hours each way and going for two days with my grumpy husband and ADHD kid makes sense, and if calling it off is worth disappointing my kid.

I'd still really like to see at least one of my cousins, so I thought hey, maybe we could stay with her and her husband and go to the Wisconsin State Fair! Then I find out that my other cousin is due with her fifth kid at the same time. Less than optimal, to say the least.

Hearing about my cousin's pregnancy just opens up the whole infertility snarl in my head again. Since my miscarriage, I've put on a bunch of weight that I'm hoping (and so far failing) to lose before we start trying again. The biological clock keeps ticking louder and louder, with increasing ominous tones of "Midnight is coming", which goes just great with the undercurrent of "this isn't fucking fair - she has four little girls already".

My husband quit his job several weeks ago, so we've been pulling together cost-cutting measures like refinancing. Today we found out the results of the house appraisal, which put the current value of our house at over 10% lower than five years ago, which is complete and utter bullshit. I am in shock and sick at the news; refinancing at this point is out of the question. Now I'm waiting to hear from the banker if we can get another appraisal that isn't completely jacked up, or if we can cancel the refinancing.

Because I'm not under enough stress, last night my brain decided to mash up all the anxiety floating around and present me with a doozy of a nightmare. It was a cross between "The Wicker Man" and "Rosemary's Baby", where I was on vacation in a rural area, surrounded by genial-seeming folk, only to find out that I was to be the sacrifice in their fertility festival, where they would tie me up, cut out my reproductive parts, and stew them up to be consumed by the women in the village to ensure their healthy fertility. Screaming at them about my current inability to have a baby made no impact. Really, brain? I didn't need that.

Step 1: drink tonight. Step 2: get to bed much earlier. Step 3: somehow fucking deal with all this.

Since everyone else has been posting about their weird and vivid dreams…

Right before waking up this morning, I had a dream about some WB-type live event, where they brought out stars from several shows for an impromptu cabaret. I wish I could remember all the people onstage, because it was a varied bunch of talents and performances, to say the least. For instance, one act was singing along with a large pink chenille mechanical elephant (a remnant from “Moulin Rouge”, maybe?). The last part I only remember because it happened right before I woke up; Alan Tudyk (Wash from “Firefly”), Jason Momoa (Ronon from “Stargate: Atlantis”), and Jared Padalecki (Sam on “Supernatural”, which I don’t even WATCH, dammit, but I hear all about from my flist) are standing together with harmonicas of different sizes. They start to tune them up (don’t ask me why harmonicas need tuning), and Alan, wielding the smallest one (it’s like two inches long), pulls out a black crayon, tosses it away, then pulls out a yellow crayon (!) to help him play. The crowd goes wild. Then we cut to a behind-the-scenes, pre-filmed shot with Jared, who has been tasked with creating the song for the group. He relates that he procrastinated enough in writing it that he had to go download something off the internet. We then flash back to the guys on stage, only the stage has been changed to something out of a disco (mirror ball and everything), and the guys, formerly dressed in street clothes, are now in sparkly purple shirts and tight black pants, playing their hearts out.

Then I woke up, and couldn’t decide whether to laugh at my subconscious or cry that I didn’t get to see what happened next. I mean, what the hell? How many fandoms can I fit into one dream sequence?