Last night, my husband left me—in my dreams.

Let’s start with a little backstory, shall we? I was sitting around, minding my own business when I noticed that Levi had returned home from New Jersey. (Months ahead of schedule, might I add.) I was excited about it, so much so that I spent most of my dream trying to copulate with him, something that kept getting interrupted by the weird Asian couple that lived with us that was clearly jealous of me because—referencing the wise words of Beyonce—I put a ring on it. (Actually I just proposed to it over the phone and DP’d it—it provided the rings. “It” being my husband if you aren’t following this thought well. This part of this blog entry actually happened.)

I didn’t think it odd that a weird Asian couple was living with us, or that my husband magically appeared one day unannounced. I was more confused by the child the Asian couple had, that was also interrupting me and living in my home. I think I was more confused by the child because he was a needy asshole—the couple just minded their own business while ignoring their child.

After Levi and I had given up, we went out to the living room. Now, I need to interrupt here to point out that the Asian couple liked to rearrange my furniture. They moved my pretty couch up against a wall while replacing it with an ugly couch that was placed off center in the room. The ugly couch was forest green. (The worst color of green.) After I had become distraught over the couches, Levi decided he’d had enough and fucking left me—for the Asian couple with bad taste.

They left me with that damned cockblocking child and their ugly couch.