Being pregnant, I dreamt a number of really terrible things last night. I dreamt first that my cat died, that she had some kind of surgery and didn't make it out. Which was really disturbing because I love my cat very much. She's enormously fat, with pastel spots and she doesn't have her claws and so she gets beat on by the other cats. So that was really upsetting.
And then I dreamt that our bishop came after us armed, with a posse. Matt and I were at some kind of camp, presumably being sad about the cat, and the bishop showed up with a whole lot of people and weapons, ready to do battle.
Then I woke up and read that Bishop Cavalcanti has not been invited to the Lambeth Conference and felt that there was no point being an Anglican any more. I'm prepared to be almost anything else at this point.
So now I am going to go scrub the bathroom, because that's how bad it is.