I had an odd night last night. First, I had a melancholy dream about an ex-boyfriend, the one who left me the most heartbroken. Let's call him C. In the dream he worked at a strange motel that I was busy exploring. I saw him and said hello, and:
me: So, I heard you married your best friend who you were in love with throughout our relationship. [note: in real life this is true]
C: Yeah, I did. (gets dreamy look) Oh man, like two weeks ago, we just went through this crazy period where we just couldn't keep our hands off each other, just kept fucking like all the time. ...
me (laughing): I can't believe you just said that to me!

The dream was mostly just strange, though it was sad just being reminded of being in a relationship where you're in love and the other person is not.

And then I woke up around 3:45 to hear my dog scratching herself. She kept making little noises of annoyance. Then she started pacing like she needed to go outside. I threw on a shift-dress and took her out. It was very quiet out, and cool and damp, and I could hear the trucks moaning on Rt. 91. The dog could not stop eating grass. She's done it before and usually doesn't throw up. I started dragging her away each time she started chowing down, so she wouldn't eat too much. I walked her to the parking lot of the nearby Christian school and she eventually peed, but nothing else, so I went back inside. I was also freaked about the scratching, so I went online and read some more about fleas and the two flea treatments she's on (Frontline and Program). It turns out that Frontline kills fleas by screwing up their nervous system, and right before they die they get all crazy and active, like a guy running down a city street high on angel dust or something, and the itching from that makes it seem like the flea problem is worse, when in fact it means it's about to go away. Apparently this is a common concern with Frontline users, because this info is right on their website.

I was up until 5 a.m. reading crap about fleas to reassure myself. Now I am reassured. The dog has barely been scratching today and when she does, I just picture a tiny mentally deranged flea about to kick the bucket, and I feel better.