Mark and I are in a car with friends. Mark is driving. There is chatting and laughing, but also? There is tension.
Mark and I have something to discuss. And this thing we need to discuss? Hangs heavy and impatient in the air.
And then it’s just the two of us in the car.
Mark turns to me, and I look into his eyes. I see the face of the man I have loved for so many years. The man with whom I have built a family, a life, a home.
I see Mark. The other half of me.
And the other half of me is explaining, with pleading sincerity, that he loves me.
And that he would like to sleep with other people.
Alrighty, then.
He keeps talking, but my mind is racing on without him. Thinking about the girls and my life and my future. Things to be done. Steps to be taken.
Sleeping with other people . . . are you fucking kidding me? Not even. I am so fucking out of here.
Mark is still talking, and now I am thinking about this blog and all of the hundreds of times I have written about Mark in loving terms. Oh my god, I am going to look like such a fucking fool. Pretty All True is pretty all dead . . . how the fuck did I not see this coming?
Mark has turned out to be such a faithless fucking asshole.
He is sitting here beside me this morning.
I am furious with him. Furious and heartbroken.
He looks over at me, “What is wrong with you?”
Hmmmph . . . “Nothing.”
It was a very vivid dream.
What?
Also annoying this morning? Mark bought us an enormous supply of these business envelopes that have an adhesive strip. You just peel off the backing and voila! Stickiness!
So you don’t have to lick them. Because we are too fucking lazy to lick, apparently.
Well, Mark is.
What?
Did I mention these envelopes are a Costco purchase? So we have 500. That’s like a forever supply. And because we have a forever supply? The girls feel free to use the envelopes for whatever purpose pops into their minds.
Like . . .
Shells and rocks and home-made confetti and stickers and notes and dog fur and excess sugar dust from a Fun-Dip candy and fish food and flowers and glitter.
Our house is filled with sealed envelopes no one had to lick.
That’s just all kinds of awesome, right?
Ok, but here’s the thing. Every time an envelope is used? There is a little strip of adhesive backing left over. And every time an envelope is used? A decision must be made . . . what should be done with this leftover bit of trash?
And every time one of these envelopes is used? The girls seem to be of the opinion that if Daddy meant to save them the effort of licking? Then he surely could not have meant for them to get up and walk over to throw this piece of peeled-off trash in the garbage.
That wouldn’t even make sense!
It is hard to argue with their logic.
So I am forever picking up these little adhesive backing strips, and every fucking time? My brain thinks (just for an instant) that someone has changed her sanitary pad . . . in my kitchen, and in my living room, and in the bedroom, and in my back yard. Someone too fucking lazy to walk the strip of adhesive backing over to the garbage can.
Why would these menstrual sluts not just use the bathroom? And where are these crazy bloody women hiding the nasty used pads? That’s what I want to know.
What?
I hold one of these little strips in my hand and crinkle it between my fingers. It feels the same. It looks the same.
Goddamn Mark and his lazy no-licking menstrually-synchronized envelope whores.
What?
Words on the little slip of shame declare, “Peel and Seel.”
That is way suggestive and trashy. And also? Illiterate.
Mark is tiring of my intellect, apparently.
He’s going to seel the deal with some stupid someone else.
What?
Back at my computer.
Tappity tappity tappity tap.
I mention to Mark that I had a dream that he wanted to sleep with other people.
He is all eager ears . . . “I never have cool dreams like that! Did I introduce you to these other women? Were they cute?”
Mark is way annoying sometimes.
I turn to him, “I didn’t see the other women, but my impression of them was that they were stupid and lazy. And that they all seemed to have a perpetual menstrual cycle. And there was no oral sex . . . I distinctly remember that dream-you had an issue with licking.”
OK, so I fudged the details a bit.
Mark is all sad and disappointed in his dream-self.
As am I.
As am fucking I.
What?
The beginning of this post had me all in a panic. I was trying to read ahead while reading the post. I was ready to punch Mark. My stomach was all in my throat I was so mad. I’ve calmed down a little but my shoulders are still all tense from how upset I was. I can’t believe how worked up I got or a marriage of two pretty much strangers falling apart. So tell Mark this better never happen because apparently I can’t handle it.
I am laughing so hard!
I thought of more clearly telegraphing the dream in the title, but then?
Fuck it.
I am sorry to hear that you were all upset, but also? Secretly pleased.
Snort.
Fine. I see how it is. Get me all upset then laugh at me. Humph.
Mocking laughter at the expense of those you love?
The best kind!
Snort.
I stay mad at people for DAYS after they piss me off in my dreams. I was about to kick Mark in the ball sac and I don’t even know him!
Snort!
Yes, Mark is not quite clear why his morning has to suck because I am a crazy person who is unable to distinguish reality from dreams.
I love him. But sleeping with other people? A deal-breaker.
Even in my dreams.
See, I never have dreams about cheating. No, my abandonment issues manifest in a Death of Husband dream about once a week. I wake up in the throes of mourning on a semi-regular basis.
I then I realize that someone set the coffee maker before I woke up, so it’s either his ghost fucking with me or Husband is fine.
I also have dreams about Mark dying!
All the time!
I hate waking up in mourning. I know exactly what you are describing.
Exactly.
I totally figured this was a dream before you said it was…and me, I’d NEVER buy envelopes that you didn’t have to lick b/c I LOVE the way envelope licking tastes. Seriously, for every holiday, birthday, anniversary, and just b/c my husband leaves my card envelopes unsealed b/c he knows I like to lick them myself. And Stamps, just as good.
Apparently, I have licking issues.
Just so you know? If Mark did ever make an announcement like that in real life?
I would not have time to blog about it.
I would be too busy wood-chipping his body into the snow.
Do they let you blog from prison?
And you? With your licking issues? You are hilarious!
I just do not see what’s so hard about licking. And usually? Mark loves this about me.
hahaha. Your dreams are as bizarre as mine. My hubby loves it when I have dreams like that about him too. The envelope part of your dream cracked me up big time. I buy those for work. I like that you don’t have the lick them. ick, that stuff you lick tastes awful.
The stuff you lick?
It does not taste that bad.
I only have weird dreams like that when pregnant… … … …
Rob had an issue with licking until we got married. If I would have known that I would have married him a whole lot sooner!
Snort!
Yay for you!
I should mention here i was not fooled by this post. You talk about your husband way too much for there to be big trouble in little oswego. When I am mad at my husband? You will notice a suspicious lack of talking about him in my blog. Then you will know.
See? Exactly.
You are way smart.
Damn you and your long lead in.
I felt my entire fucking body go numb.
I’m not speaking to you anymore, you cruel, cruel woman.
Hee hee!
You? Are way too empathetic.
And also? I love you.
Holy crap! I had a dream like that a few nights ago and I woke up raging pissed at my husband. All day I kept thinking about what an asshole he is and when he came home I got a little snarky with him. After he looked at me and asked what my problem was, I told him I was sorry & that he pissed me off in a dream. He just rolled his eyes and mumbled something about me being crazy. Then I laughed to myself because it was kinda funny.
Just wait until I inform him of the dream I had where he was going to Hell and I was helping him pack!
Funny how the mind works . . . It is hard to let go of rage, even if it is not real.
And for hell? I wouldn’t think you’d need much.
Maybe some sunscreen. And water.
It’s hot there, I have heard.
OMG I seriously thought “she could not really posting be that” and immediately wished I had nerve like that. Whew! Although the ensuing posts should Marc sleep with other women would be even more hilarious. I’m slightly disappointed.
Mark is all happy with your brilliant plan . . . the one where I post about him sleeping with other women.
Not even.
And also? I would not post about the actual demise of my marriage as it was happening.
Not even.
That’s not nerve. That’s insanity.
Oh man, I read the first several lines and then my son needed me to come and wipe his bum. So for like 5 minutes I was in shock at Mark’s douchebaggery. What is your damage woman? ;) Heehee…I actually love being tricked like that. Soooo goood!
In the light of day? I know Mark.
So I guess I didn’t think too many people would believe the dream was real.
But honestly?
I am all giggling and hysterical over here!
That is lovely!
I was reading along saying “WHAT!?!?!?!” and “NO WAY!!!!!”, and then I said, “This HAS to be a dream.” Thank goodness I was right. Although, in the back of my head, when you said that the blog was dead, for a split second, I was thinking no…that there would be so much to blog about. Apparently I’m a drama whore.
As I mentioned elsewhere in these comments?
If this had not been a dream? Mark would be dead.
Internet access in prison is tricky.
Oh my Lord, my heart dropped into my stomach until I got to the dream part. And I have a problem licking envelopes ever since someone told me there might be cockroach eggs in the glue. Irrational, maybe. But my fear and loathing of roaches is so intense that I will never lick an envelope again. I’m about to puke just thinking about it.
That is like a nightmare!
Why would there be cockroach eggs in the envelope glue???
You are all irrational and loony!
I love that about you!
I’ve heard the same story about roach eggs. The story goes that some lady got a papercut on her tongue from licking an envelope. It got swollen and infected, then one day burst open & a bunch of baby roaches came out of her papercut. Apparently, roaches had laid eggs in the glue at the envelope factory or something. Likely this is total bullshit, but I think of it every time I lick an envelope & it creeps me out.
I am heading off to snopes.
That cannot be true.
Horrifying but untrue, I am guessing.
I am hoping.
Snopes says it is a lie.
You can lick with abandon.
Snort.
Oh, dear GOD! Fiance and I were both freaking out! Fiance even suggested that we go down to Lake Oswego to comfort you in your distress! Good thing with read further and discovered that it was only a dream. Just what you need — two lunatic blog-fans showing up in your town unannounced, shouting “Kris!” through the streets, because we don’t know where you live! (I crack myself up!)
Tears running down my face at the thought . . .
Kris! We’re here for you, Kris! Where are you, exactly? Kris!
Oh my god.
I’m glad you kept reading!
We are all sympathetic and gooey like that. No, no…don’t thank us. We love to give. We’re givers. *snort!*
Snort indeed.
Love you both.
When I hadn’t been married very long I once had a dream that after we died we were in the afterlife with other people and my husband went hanging out with some blond chick, leaving me alone. Turns out I don’t know many dead people. When I woke up – but not all the way – I made him promise he would hang out with me in heaven. I am amazed this man hasn’t run screaming from the house way before now. I get the emotion hanging on when the dream ends, but if your dream ever becomes reality at least you know there’ll be about 100 women at your door ready to do in your husband. And not in a good way.
It is almost worth the thought of Mark cheating . . . just to imagine the pack of angry blog-readers who would hunt him down and tear him limb from limb.
Mark is all scared.
I mean, he was already all scared of me.
But now? I have a fucking army!
Happy sighs.
“Goddamn Mark and his lazy no-licking menstrually-synchronized envelope whores.”
That’s art right there, that sentence. Oh yes.
Goddamn dream Mark is a prick. Dream Brian? Also a prick. Dream Brian once made (Made? Snort. Had to have been a dream.) me have sex with him on the 50 yard line in a jam-packed football stadium.
But there were no whores. No sanitary napkin adhesive backing litter, either. I keep my office supplies locked up because my kids are like locusts for that shit. I’m still wondering how they used up an entire gross of pencils in a month last year.
Truly? I wish I knew how many pencils are in a gross.
One gross is 144 – one dozen dozens.
Adrienne is correct.
Not that there was a doubt.
But I like to have the last word.
No, I was wrong that one time. You probably don’t remember, but it happened once. I think it was a Tuesday.
Nope.
It was a Wednesday.
So now that’s twice you’ve been wrong.
Adrienne -
I am fond of that phrase myself. Mark laughed right out loud at that image.
Kids and office supplies? It’s just craziness.
Why would Mark indulge their need with Costco mass quantities of office supplies?
Even though he is not sleeping with envelope whores? That shit’s annoying.