Justin just woke me up from the worst dream.

We had bought our first house. It was this two-level thing with a basement and a foyer downstairs, the rest of the house on the second level. It was in one of those planned communities, with its own restaurants and little market (health food market, no less). I protested at the lack of diversity and the manufactured nature of the paradise, but Justin and I really liked the house.

And then everything started going downhill. I wish I could say that part of it didn't include me being locked out of my house in just a big T-Shirt, sans underwear. I wish I could say that Justin didn't track my semi-naked, lost self in our new Volvo, which he parked at the market, where we returned to find the car defaced with all manner of sexually-explicit, anti-gay bumper stickers by local kids.

Once home, we found cars in our yard and a bunch of redneck-y kids playing "fort" while their obese, leathered mother doused them with water and dirt while up on our balcony. Justin said that he had enough and locked himself in the bedroom. I ran out onto the balcony to kindly ask the woman to remove herself and her kids, no doubt the kids who defaced our car.

"Chill out, man," she said, "The pastor always let us play fort in his yard."

I watched as one of the kids shot a real arrow at another.

"This yard?" I asked incredulously. Before she could answer, I said, "You've gotta get off of my property."

"No sir!" she said, steel cold. She then tossed some more water at her kids.

"Look, what's your name, lady."

"Henry Winkler."

I then decided to do something that I've never done before. I went "Hey, yo!" and waved my arm in an exaggerated, mock-Fonzie motion. The "Heeeeyyy, yoooo" was followed by a quick, harsh "get yourself and your kids off my lawn, bitch. I'm calling the cops."

And then Justin woke me up from this nightmare. As I marvelled over the perils of house ownership, he asked what kind of breakfast I'd like from Burger King. I asked for a crosandwich, but all I could think about was the final freeze frame of my dream. It was when the woman, eyes flashing, lifted her shovel over her head, and pounded me one on the noggin.

I figured I deserved some Cini-minis, too.