Last night I dreamed that I opened the fridge and saw a carton of eggs hidden away behind their usual storage spot. I didn't know it was a dream until this morning when I fancied an omelet and looked for the eggs in that spot. They weren't there because no one bought eggs this weekend. That's when I realized that I only have two kinds of dreams-- the incredibly twisted type or the unbearably boring ones--neither of which should really be shared. It's probably why I haven't posted on here until now. That or the fact that my dad's definition of a nightcap is half a glass of Scotch, and I can't really drink whiskey without rambling in one medium or another.