On the brink of a huge emotional blow-out I dream of a baby.

Unfamiliar surroundings. Corridors and rooms and a landscape and stairs are before me and I move through them perfectly until I find the baby. With Baby's head in my palm and squirming arms and legs moving, I hold Baby close to my body and step through the maze of strange space flawlessly again.

I remember details of a pink baby, soft and the slightest weight. metallic surfaces, grays, and a fire pit filled with orange.

Today I come home from work half asleep and resentful that I have to drag myself out again for a meeting when the dogs and dinner and laundry and work around the house are screaming for me to finish. So I look down where Jerry has the ladder planted and flip because it's crushing my plants. I am pissed all over again for every argument we have ever had about plants.

He has decided I do not appreciate the hard work and labor he has put into improving our house. I think Jerry is insane to stay with me.

It's not the plants or the ladder. It's me. Tomorrow I'll pull the covers back and gently nudge self loathing and doubt. They're late for dinner as I am being swallowed by my moods, and so is Jerry.

I don't get it.