Bump. Head. Wall.

I awoke from a dreamy stupor around 3am from an odd dream where I had landed the role in a big budget Hollywood movie that was being directed by my high school drama teacher ... who never liked me anyway.

I was anxious. Confused. Off-balance. And boy did I have to pee.

I was stumbling around in the dark, moving around the bed toward the door. Fumbling in the darkness for some sort of clothing that would cover me a bit more, should LISBF's son be sleeping on the couch, which he oft is.

It was much too dark to see anything, so I lumbered in the direction of the bedside table, reaching for the lamp in the pitch black when .... SMACK. I ploughed head-first into the brick wall that runs through the center of the house.

I burst into tears and starting shouting at LISBF about things being too dark, clothes being misplaced, sons being asleep and bladders needing to be emptied. He promptly flipped on the lamp and I grabbed a shirt and huffed out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

Fourteen hours later, and my head is still throbbing. Brick is a bitch.