This morning's dream? Not quite as fun. This time, I was supposed to be covering a River Forest High School (!?!?) basketball game (!!) at Lake Central High School because the team had made it to regionals or something, but first I had my annual girl-plumbing appointment at Planned Parenthood, which was for some reason attached to a Catholic hospital. I got into the elevator, and it of course got stuck and wasn't lined up with the floor (one of my biggest fears), and then it came time for the exam. [WARNING! WARNING! TMI MOMENT ABOUT MY PRIVATES TO FOLLOW!]
So, it comes time for my exam, and the doctor gets up in there only to find that the ol' hoohah's full of green, rotting tissue that he can't tell if it's cancerous or not, but from the looks of it, it's not. But before he could tell me anything else, there's a fire on the roof of the hospital, and it's pandemonium as everyone's heading for the stairwells, and I still have to get to the high school to cover the game.
I don't even cover sports. Sheesh.
So Monday, I get to be the Valentine's Day reporter, covering lesbians getting marriage licenses and unhappy couples getting divorces and cheesy weddings at a local jewelry store. I laughed via e-mail with my one editor about it.
Me: Oh sure. A nasty ol' spinster like me could use the hope.
Her: spinster, now there's a word to be wiped from the English language. Well, at least we're not nasty old virgins like they were in the old days, too!
Me: (laughs) Speak for yourself!
Oh, whatEVER. 
