I just woke up, about 4 am, absolutely unable to breathe, choking on something or another (I strongly suspect, despite having zero evidence of this, that a spider crawled down my gullet, as I once read spiders crawl in peoples' mouths when they are sleeping and spiders are my arch-nemeses). Obviously I lived. However, I am sad to report that as I struggled to cough out whatever was blocking my trachea my final thoughts were not of how my death would affect my family, or who would take care of my pets, or whether the department would be able to access my gradebook for the semester, or even the most basic thought that I should get up and summon the police with my handy police-summoning Xfinity home security gizmo. No, my final thoughts were that I wasn't wearing one of my nicer nighties and I was going to be found dead not being very fashionable.
I feel like I should just turn in my Modern Independent Highly-Educated Woman ID badge and join a reality TV show where I complain about my makeup and whether The Bachelor-of-the-moment likes me better than Amber or Sparkles or whatever other empty-headed goofballs are on those shows. As a proud member of the ACLU, I completely support their right to be empty-headed goofballs. But that's supposed to not be me. It's like I don't even know myself anymore. I'm seriously disappointed.
Also, I hate spiders.
Today's Early Morning Norwegian Word is "Edderkoppen" which means "The spider" as in "Edderkoppen dreper meg." [The spider is killing me.]