I was in some (unrecognized) room and had some white rags or towels that had a blue stain or paint in them. I was taking a hose and spraying off the rags to get the color out, but I was doing this on hardwood floors, and the blue was getting on the floors. I realized I didn't want this mess, so then I took the rags and mopped up the floor with them, and then washed them out in the sink (duh...you think I might've thought of that FIRST?). I didn't recognize the house or rooms where I was, but supposedly it was mine. In the bathroom, the sink was very low to the ground, which made standing over it extremely uncomfortable. I asked Stan why he lowered the sink, and I forgot the response he gave, but it had to do with expediency or saving money or something. I told him that it was so difficult to wash my hands over this stupid midget sink, that if he didn't raise it, I'd never wash my hands again, and then I'd get sick all the time.

Labels: Dreams