Last night a wicked person turned my hubby into a dog.
Yes, it's true, a big hairy one that drooled on the furniture, chased the cats, and licked my face.
Shudder. I don't even like dogs.
Then they left him that way too long before changing him back to a human, and the dog thing stuck in his brain. Do you know how awkward it is to rub a grown man's belly and scratch behind his ears? Yup. Strange.
And yes, my dreams are usually strange. I spent the greater part of the night trying to coax my hubby back into humanity. It didn't work. The mental dogness was permanent. Talk about nightmare. You try taking your hubby/dog for a walk. You get really odd looks when you strap a human man to a leash. Just saying. And I'm not even going to go into fire hydrants because, well, this is a family friendly blog and some things are just so wrong.
I woke up feeling like I needed to get Hubby some shots and a really cute collar. I'm just so glad it was a dream.
What does this have to do with writing? Nothing. It's just that kind of day.