Stewart's guest bathroom would have scented candles and a sense of style, hospitality, and luxury. And not so much white. White walls, white floor, white towels, white shower curtain. A rather bizarre- looking attachment on the faucet, and another one on the showerhead. I look at the mirror. I carefully touch the mirror to make sure it was a real mirror, not a…what? What else would it be? Oh, God, I’ve gone mad. I peer into the mirror. Yikes! Well, I give that bony lump sleeping beside me credit for marrying me when I look like hell. Good grief, he must be a total loser. I examine my dull, spotty complexion, wild Einstein hair, and the bags under my blurry, bloodshot eyes. My head hurts. I check myself for bruises, scratches, and sore spots. No, nothing. Well, at least I wasn’t attacked. So, what do I tell that Bony Lump? ‘Hey, Bozo, whatever happened between us, it was just some bizarre mistake. Gather your things and get the hell out of here. I'll contact my lawyer to annul this fiasco as soon as I get home. Now go.’ Then I’ll point to the door for dramatic effect. Oh, yeah, that sounds good. As soon as I get home. Home? Where is home? I can’t remember. I look back at the reflection in the mirror. I can't remember where I live, or how I got here. I can't remember where I work, or what kind of car I drive. I can’t remember my name. Did Bony Lump drug me, take advantage of me, and then, marry me? No, why would he do that? That makes no sense. I wiggle the beautiful gold wedding ring with a large brilliant cut diamond solitaire in the center. Weighty. Expensive. Good fit. Slightly familiar. Oh, look, a little tan line. How can that be? This has to be a dream. I snap off the light and creep silently back into bed. Oh, crap. That might have been my last chance at escape if this lump beside me is a kidnapper. The sooner I go back to sleep, the sooner I’ll wake up, and this bizarre dream will be over.