Last night I had a dream that Patrick and I had a huge fight, bigger than any argument we've ever had in real life but I can't remember what it was about or what we said. I just remember feeling very un-connected with him and separate and damn that was scary.
I woke up at 5:30 and couldn't go back to sleep. Instead I turned on the heater, brought a blanket and pillow out to the living room, fired up the laptop, wrote a long silly letter to Stewart Copeland and have been uploading music for my mom's iPod, my super-project.
Patrick's in bed, snoring away, obvlivious.
I think I'll do some laundry, too. Since I'm awake anyway.