Smells Like Fear

A couple of weeks ago I was asked to serve our small downtown district as the chief organizer (heh!) of the 'Decorating Committee.' I scoff at the idea of me being the leader of anything and find it especially hilarious that I have one single person (my friend Lorie) to help with the project of beautifying our town. Oh, and did I mention the budget for this task is like butkus? Yes folks, though we lack an in house Rumplestiltskin, we WILL be trying to spin straw into gold.

So here's the thing. I've been kinda dragging my ass on getting anthing started. As a clever ruse I've been blaming it on the weather, which has been rather cooperative in that department (thanks, 6" of snow!) So for the last few days I've been kind of obsessing over what exactly I should do and how I should get the ball rolling. Then last night I had a dream and it went something like this:

I shit my pants... yes, that's right, filled 'em. Though I didn't realize it right away, I knew something just didn't 'feel' right. Eventually things started getting REAL messy and as I worked at cleaning up the trail of feces I had left behind, I noticed I was surrounded by people I didn't know, all grimacing at the mess I had made.... And then I woke up!

Now, if that's not foreboding? I don't know what is.