My first dream last night was a nightmare that thrust me into wakefulness. I was texting and driving and I plowed through a crosswalk that was simultaneously filled with a family and a stroller and a class of kindergartners and old women with walkers. This was enough to keep me awake for most of the night – and enough to keep my phone zipped away while I drove the boys to school this morning.

Clearly, my subconscious feels vulnerable to my driving habits, and my dreams are trying to terrorize my awake self into breaking the texting habit. I’m listening. I promise.

In the second dream, I was moving out of a house that Robb and I owned together, which actually seems to be an odd version of the home I lived in until I was seven. The basement was filled to the ceiling with all kinds of things from my childhood and his, and truly an incredible and impressive amount of Lincoln Logs. We were purging our collection of items no longer needed, and I can’t really recall if Robb was present in the dream or just a presence in the dream. I just remember the weightless feeling of unloading these things I no longer needed, of having room and space to live again.

Clearly my subconscious is doing some work there as well. Either I have much emotional baggage to unload, or I just really need to clean out the basement.

Anyway, all of that to say, I was awake. So I naturally turned to Facebook, since it’s smarter to do that in the middle of the night instead of in the middle of traffic. (See? I’m listening.)

I took a quiz: What kind of flower are you?

Wildflower bouquet of oxeye daisies isolated on white background

Confession: I took the quiz because I wanted it to tell me I’m a daisy. Daisies really are the happiest flower, don’t you think? I wanted the questions to evolve and reveal that truly I am a low maintenance, happy girl who just brightens the room without expectation or demands.

No dice. It said I am a rose, which I somehow found incredibly offensive at 3 am.

I don’t want to be a rose. High maintenance. Heavy with meaning. Layered. Cliche.

I just want to be a daisy. It’s all I really want in this world.

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