“So I had a really weird dream last night,” The Wife™ said as we pulled out of the neighborhood en route to the grocery store.

“Yea? Why was it so weird?”

“Well, you died. We were on vacation, at the beach.”

“Minus the death part, this sounds pretty awesome…”

“And you were in this band, with Ray and Seth.”

“Yea, so far this is a pretty great dream to me.”

“Well, your band wasn’t very good, and the Police were there”

“Wait, wait, wait. The three of us were in the Police? As in members of the band the Police?! ‘Cuz that would explain why it sucked—we were dragging them down.”

“No,” she said, “The police were there, I don’t know why. Then all of a sudden you set yourself on fire, and then set Ray on fire too. I think you died, but I was on a plane flying elsewhere. And then I was at this bar having dinner right after, eating a steak, and some guy asked where you were and I told him you had just died.”

[long pause]

“So, to recap, I was in a band that sucked, the non-musical police showed up, I proceed to set myself *and* my good friend on fire while sitting on the beach and you deal with all of this by hopping on a plane, going to a bar and enjoying a steak dinner while talking to another dude?”

“…yea. I was pretty upset…”

“Uh huh, sounds like you were all sorts of broken up. Apparently my level of importance in this relationship has slipped to being on-par with a nice slab of beef. Super.”