This afternoon I huddled under my covers unhappily until I warmed up, did some reading, then sprawled face-down on my bed and fell asleep for a bit.
I was in the middle of a complex dream where Elliot from Scrubs was performing a drug bust (and being all self-important about it too, I must add), and I was vacuuming my sister's rug with a huge tube-shaped vacuum cleaner (that looked more like a missile launcher now that I think about it). I was just starting to get suspicious because the rug looked a lot like MY rug, but not the same, so why did she get a near duplicate of my rug, when the doorbell rang.
The real doorbell.
My head snapped around in surprise, and I lifted myself half-onto my elbows. I mostly knew I was awake, but I had been so close to finishing vacuuming that rug, I really wanted to finish before I went downstairs to answer the door. I vacuumed a wee bit more, then something in me realized that the job was futile. I debated internally whether answering the door was even worth it, then my curiosity got the better of me. It's rare that somebody rings my door after all.
When I got downstairs, it turned out to be a vanished mail person who had just been delivering some filters I'd ordered. Darn, I could have finished that rug after all.
Or at least I could have finished my nap....