Because Laurel wanted this journal entry from yesterday to be a blog post.

Early this morning, right before the alarm went off, I dreamt that I was living in London and my sister had come for a visit. In my dream, London looked oddly like Spain, with jam-packed, multi-terraced buildings set in close urban hillsides. My sister had just arrived, and we were waiting on my father and stepmother to make their way to my villa—there was some concern about their multiple, large suitcases. I was sweeping up a bit in preparation for the new guests.

But then my roommate, Benedict Cumberbatch (naturally), appeared and demanded to know why I hadn’t yet secured a new place for us to live. Apparently, I was supposed to be out doing just that, but I’d forgotten. So off I went, leaving my sister and my roommate behind.

I was scouring the city but couldn’t find an acceptable new domicile. At one point, I was waiting to cross a busy street and found myself standing at the head of a crosswalk with a young male-female couple who were rather mouthy. It was also suddenly nighttime, of course. They were making rude comments about me, and once the light was green for pedestrians, the young man slapped me on the breast and took off with his friend.

I was stunned. For a moment, I wondered if he’d meant to pat me on the arm or something instead, but then I realized that it’s not my job to make excuses for other people’s bad behavior and I yelled after them about how it’s not okay to assault people. I even tried to hit the guy over the head with my extra-long-handled broom—which I was carrying with me, for some reason—but it came off as more of a love tap, which is not at all what I intended. The couple was fast outpacing me, and there was no way I could keep up while dragging around this ridiculous six-foot broom, so I went back to my original errand of apartment hunting.

It was back to daylight again as I toured one wide-balconied space after another all around Spanish London (which is something I may or may not have just made up), but each was quickly deemed unacceptable for my roommate, who I knew required that his balcony be the highest one overlooking absolutely everything. He was kind of a tool. (And I realize that Virtual Cumberbatch is sounding a bit like Cheetolini about now, and I apologize to the potentially innocent for any accidental conflation by my subconscious.)

And then, just as I found a beautiful apartment that would certainly meet my roommate’s high expectations, the alarm went off and I still had this freaking headache and the cats were all snuggly and reluctant to let me out of the bed and everything felt cold. So, back to real life.

misadventures in Spanish London

3 thoughts on “misadventures in Spanish London

  • 13 December 2016 at 13:34
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    My fiancé wants Benedict for her roommate and wants to know how you arranged that 😉

    Reply

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