Gold; dust; pools

I discovered last night that I own The Notebook DVD. I made the huge mistake of popping it in even though I have my damn monthly visitor right now.
And then I tried to sew this damn gold dress which somehow SHRANK and now doesn't fit over my shoulders. So I sat there, STUCK in gold fabric. Because although it doesn't fit OVER my shoulders, it fits nice and SNUGLY around them. So I was jumping up and down and crying, and then eventually RIPPING SEAMS.
This after a night of cleaning the whole apartment only to find that the SPONGE ITSELF was the thing that reeked so badly of geriatric breath.
The last time my roommate and I cleaned the apartment we ended up throwing out the whole trash can because the bottom was a maggot nest. So we wrapped the whole thing in garbage bags and put it in the dumpster.
Well our landlady, who has a psychological problem with throwing things away (her house is like an antique funhouse) apparently had other plans for our maggot-can. When I returned from work, it stood, RESCUED, on our front steps. She had WASHED IT OUT.
I don't understand. Does she think we didn't actually MEAN to throw it away? Like we accidentally rigged up the bags AROUND it? Or is this a statement? Is this her way of saying "you do not have the right to throw things away without my permission"? Or is this her saying "This is Phewy. Phewy has a name because he is a person just like you or I. He has feelings and he doesn't deserve to be just THROWN AWAY like that."
In any case, I haven't touched Phewy since his rescue, but I've noticed that since he appeared on our doorstep, he has been placed further and further inside. First the porch, then the stairs up to our part of the house, and then the landing outside our door.

Also, this is the second time I've had a dream about a magic swimming pool that, with a touch of a button, turns into an erotic swimming pool, and everybody in it gets all hot for each other. Then you press the button and it goes back to a normal fun volleyball pool.