I wrote a screenplay in my sleep last night.
I had this dream where The Captain and I had to move to Texas or something. The Captain had bought a house, sight unseen, online. You know, amazing deal, couldn't pass it up.
The house looks just like the stuff we like: Frank Lloyd Wright meets The Anchorman's Pad. Heavy dark doors, low light, atrium-like back yard. And goes for miles on one floor. The catch? It's a duplex! And there is no partition between the two halves! It's like a yuppy hippy commune house! And the lady of the other house is a queen beyotch!
And hijinks ensue, including great big stuffed hams in OUR refrigerator, and a party on OUR side of the house. Oh, the money trains starts HERE.