Dream On

This morning as I was getting up for work, Agnes rolled over and told me in a groggy voice filled with concern that she hadn't slept very well. The following conversation ensued:

Paul: Why didn't you sleep well?
Agnes: I was having some really bad dreams.
Paul: Oh really? What did you dream about?
Agnes: I dreamed that your mom died, and then we went out to dinner, and over dinner you told me you were a transvestite. And while you were telling me, the waitress told us that our car had been towed.
Paul: Don't worry, honey, two out of three of those things never happened.

Relieved, Agnes rolled over and went back to sleep. And I slipped on on my favorite pair of fishnets and stilettos and tiptoed out the door to work.

(Okay, that very last part isn't true, but the rest happened exactly as I described it here. Oh, and instead of "transvestite", she said "trannie")