DOWNTON ABBEY...and weird dreams.

Remember how I said that I have imaginary friends and I pretend like they're real?


MY FAVORITE IMAGINARY FRIENDS LIVE AT DOWNTON ABBEY.

[photo credit]

There they all are, in their imposing British loverliness.  I can't get over how much I love this PBS miniseries, people.  I can't get enough of it.  I watched this week's episode tonight, and holy cow, I had to call Brandi ASAP to tell her how unbelievable it was.  She, of course, was like, "Calm down, Laura, it's not real life."

Oh, but it IS.

She asked me what storyline got me this time.  I said EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM THEY ARE ALL CRAZY AND THEY'RE ALL UP IN IT.

I've been eyeing my DVD of season 2 that just came in the mail today.  It's been calling to me, just begging me to open it up and watch the final episode of the season.  The Christmas special.  I LOVE Christmas.  How am I supposed to resist this?!

I just hope I can fall asleep tonight.  My sleep was fitful yesterday, which isn't surprising considering I dreamt I was a high-up person in a local yet large prostitution operation.  I wasn't one myself, but I was basically like a mob lieutenant in this human trafficking ring.  Not to mention that our operation was linked -- only circumstantially, thank goodness -- with several murders, so we were always trying to cover our tracks. I swear I wanted to get out of the business, in case you're worried my subconscious is trying to tell me to change careers.  They wouldn't let me, though.  Who's a lieutenant in a mob-run network of brothels and is connected to murders, then gets to just walk away?  NOBODY.  Phew.  What stress.

Clearly I have trouble separating fiction from reality.  Let's hope I don't ever get to the point where I think that dream could really be the truth....

PS I'm about to MURDER this stupid formatting.  Seriously.  Add this blog's formatting to the list of casualties, but it won't be circumstantial because I'm telling you now I'M GOING TO KILL THIS FORMAT.  The end.