Confessions of a One-Track Mind

Visited with J this afternoon and got my "big" gift from her. It's actually small in size, but huge in usefulness: She got me a USB hub! It's HP and has four ports---I can now plug my printer and camera in at the same time, and, as soon as I get a three-foot USB cable, I can access my old tower. (Old tower is the one that has all my tunes on it, so that's a fairly salient point---especially since the CD drive on the tower works sporadically at best.) I checked; hub works fine.

We lunched at the New Century Buffet, after which I went home and passed out because I got rousted early and often. Damn dog next door likes to bark in the middle of the night and starts barking seriously at 8:30...I'm not sure who I hate more, the dog or his owners. Owners, I think, because they just turn the dog out in the yard, and he's bored. I'm lucky the fucker hasn't tunneled under the fence and gone walkabout.

Watched "The Biggest Loser" season opener...unlike last season, where I accidentally tuned in and fell for one of the contestants (before that, I was NOT a regular viewer), I haven't felt any stirrings. But the season is young.

Speaking of stirrings of passion, I had an interesting dream this afternoon. I was in a doctor's office. I had an appointment to have something checked, and I wanted to make sure the receptionist understood that I had no money and no insurance. She said that, oh yes, it wouldn't cost me anything. I tried to asked her about whether they would be able to tell me what my test results were, and she started giving me a lot of technical gibberish---I realized that she was trying to be discreet because of HIPPA, since there was someone standing very close by.

I turned to ask him to step away, (and realized it was a guy I used to know from gaming about 12-15 years ago. I cougared him quite a bit at the time, but because I was in my late 30s and he was in his early 20s, it went right over his head) and he greeted me with a prolonged hug, during which I could feel his firm pecs. He was saying that he hadn't been in the right place for us to have a future before, but he'd never stopped thinking of me. It was him, I knew it was him, but my subconscious cast Skeet Ulrich in the part, with a thin moustache and dark hair. There's a slight resemblence. The original's eyes were set closer together, though.

I don't know where I get some of this stuff---I haven't seen the guy in at least twelve years, I don't for a minute think he's been pining for me, but that sure was a nice hug.

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Just before I woke up this morning, I had a dream. A guy gave me a pickup truck...I don't know who he was, I'm not sure what the circumstances, whether it was for something I'd done for him, or was going to do or what The truck itself was black, full-size, good shape---not *quite* Truckzilla, but close enough. It had a bunch of bumper stickers and back window decals on it, including a banner for some kind of business (carpets? tapestries?) in lieu of a tailgate.

The next day, I went to some kind of flea market or street festival. I got there early and stayed all day, and by the end of the day, heading back to the truck, I still felt energetic and happy. I met a cute guy and we were walking along, flirting.

I got to the truck and saw that the driver's door was open. Looked inside the cab, and it was stripped. Even the steering wheel was gone! I stepped back, and realized that the whole engine compartment, everything in front of the firewall was gone! Basically, it was the bed and the cab sitting there.

I was in shock. It occured to me that the original owner and I hadn't completed the paperwork, so even if the insurance paid out, I probably wouldn't get anything, and there was no telling if he'd pass it along so I could get the truck restored. I'd barely had it for 24 hours, and here it was, fucked beyond easy fixing.

Meanwhile, the guy I'd been flirting with said he had to go. I asked if I could call him, and he said he'd call me. And he got out of there, fast, as I tried to point out that we hadn't exchanged phone numbers.

I stood there, bummed out, and wondered where there was a phone so I could report the theft to the cops.

At this point, I woke up, feeling depressed. What does it say about my murky subconscious that even in my sleep, life craps on me? I get ripped off and blown off simultaneously. No luck with vehicles, no luck with my love life.

Why can't I have the GOOD kind of dream, where I'm having Discovery Channel sex with JDM or other hotties? Nope, no such luck.


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It rained all day yesterday, and I had a digestive upset pretty much all day. Had to make a caffeine run, and just scooted up to WinnDixie...didn't even feel like going the extra mile-and-a-half to WalMart...two school zones in that distance, and just NO.

Got back with some cheap sustanence and checked my mail. Was momentarily puzzled by the sight of a puffy manila envelope in my mailbox. I couldn't think of anything I'd ordered, other than that skirt last month, and I've had that for a while. The return address told the tale: It was from dine, though I still couldn't imagine what it was.

Got it open and discovered THIS:


which I'd recently lusted after while it was listed on eBay. I'd written it off as pie-in-the-sky, and was astonished and thrilled that it landed in my mailbox. Thanks again, Dine!

Of course, now I need to summon the energy to clear off my dining table so I can install it. Wasn't up to it yesterday, and I'm still lethargic today; I got up, had breakfast, took a shower and washed my hair (as they're predicting ultra low overnight temps tonight and I badly needed a good scrub), watched The Dog Whisperer, and fell asleep for another 3.5 hours. A sleepless night tonight is a foregone conclusion.

Had some odd dreams in the course of said nap: First one was of running into Jensen Ackles, who was in a stage version of "Rocky Horror", and wearing a Riff-Raff wig: Long, scraggly, thinning. He reminded me that we'd met before, around Christmas-time, something about bowling with his sister? IDK. I hadn't wanted to bring that up, as he meets so many people, and I thought it would seem gauche. But he remembered me, and we chatted plesantly and made plans for a get-together at a later time.

The other was something about being in a building that was partially used as a church. Something about selling a set of Barbie-type fashion ice skater dolls on eBay to settle some debts that Castiel was really responsible for. (The girl doll was blonde and wearing a glittery red ensemble, the male doll was wearing something that looked like Chippendales Go to the Icecapades.) He didn't seem to think it was a big deal, but I was exasperated because they were worth a lot more than a hasty auction was going to bring in. The owners were making a sacrifice for him, and he was indifferent. I left and went up to the second floor. I planned to go up to the attic, where I had a sanctuary, but I realized several people from the church had seen me, and I didn't want them to follow me to the attic and find it, so I went into an open room where I could say I'd gone up for the view from the window there.

Here's hoping I feel better over the weekend so I can make progress on the dining room....

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Blergh. I don't usually have nightmares, but this morning I woke from a double-header (after all of two hours sleep) and stayed awake. First one was something about a fight with a serial killer, the second segued out of it---I *thought* I was awake in my bedroom, and I could hear a group of guys in my back yard. I got out of bed and prowled down the hall in the dark, thinking if they attempted to break in that I'd dart back to the office and dial 911.

Woke with my heart hammering, pretty sure I was awake this time, halfway convinced that I'd left my keys in the front door (I hadn't), and since it was a little before 6 AM, and dawn was about to break, I tried to convince myself that it was safe to go back to sleep, but the flight-or-fight response was still strong.

In addition, I am either comming down with a headcold---sinuses are leaking madly---or I managed to give myself a bleach reaction by sitting in the shower scrubbing the walls during last night's cool-down. (Trying to soothe the monster heat-rash or flesh-eating bacteria on my chest.) Mb turned me on to Mr Clean Magic Erasers, which really do work wonders, even more so when assisted by spray-on Clorox cleaner. I've been working on my shower stall, which I'm pleased to say, no longer looks like a crossword grid from all the ickiness. So it could be a headcold, or a meltdown from bleach fumes, or hantaavirus. Managed to dig out some decongestant (need more) and a box of tissues (ditto) and am thinking longingly of bed.

Was supposed to go to a cooking demo at the library yesterday with Mb. She bowed out after a really rough Monday. I went alone and can say she didn't miss much. It was supposed to be summer rolls with rice paper---I expected something like a spring roll, which is crunchy, but they were rubbery and nasty and I was massively underwhelmed.

Picked up a few library books, then headed over the bridge. Got side-tracked from my plans by the sight of a "Clearance!" sign in the window of Fashion Bug. It's been so long since I've had any discretionary cash at all...I found pants in a 30 TALL marked down from $24.99 to $4 (I got two pairs, but there were more on the rack---but how many pairs of navy trousers does one gal need?) Got an orange tank for even less---maked down PLUS an additional 20% off because of a hole from the security tag that won't show under a jacket or shirt---and two tops, one white with an ornamental neckline (I'll get pix) and a pink and dark grey kimono-style top which fits divinely and will go with assorted pieces already in my wardrobe.

Spent upwards of an hour in there trying things on---much more than I actually bought. Tried several skirts, which either made my ass look five miles wide or I couldn't sit down in them. Got home and realized my mid-back hurts...probably from squirming in and out of all those outfits.

It may sound like I'm bellyaching, but I'm not; for the first time in quite a while, I'm not madly stressed about bills/food/gas money, and that's such a relief that I could probably shrug off MDR-TB. I'm such a cheery wench!

Clearly, I am spending too much of my free time thinking about Harlan County...I'm wanking more than writing, though. I have a happy little soap opera going in my head, which is wall-to-wall Boyd and a cast of OCs...I call it the "Pillar of the Community" 'verse. One of the books I snagged from the library was Elmore Leonard's "Tishamingo Blues". I also grabbed "White Trash Cooking". (What?!) Have been checking IMDb compulsively to find out when the DVDs of Justified Season 1 are coming out, but no word yet.

Speaking of OCs, I had a request from someone at ff.net to run my OC Tranh from Finish as a player character in a RPG. I said yes. It's a terrific compliment, and might lure another couple readers to it.

Can't think of anything else off the top of my head. At this rate, I'll sleep all afternoon, which will derail my attempts to get back to something like a normal sleep schedule. (Almost wrote 'sheep' schedule. Uh-HUH.)

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After church, WalMart, where I finished reading "The Last Olympian". Yes, it's tacky of me, I know, I own it---but there's a massive waiting list at the library, so I've worked my way through it in three sessions over the last week, and afterward went and picked up a couple things, so they ARE getting my business.

Came home and took a nap, as there was a brief thunderstorm coming through, making it good weather to snooze in. I woke a few minutes before six, had confused thoughts, first that I was surprised it was getting light so early in the morning, next that I'd be nice and early for the food pantry again. Then my brain rebooted and I realized it was still Sunday afternoon.

To heck with it, I said, and dozed back off. And had a dream: I was walking through New York City (or a dream fascimile thereof), and I was horrified to see a loose poodle in the middle of the street. Fortunately, the traffic had stopped for a light, and I called to him. I had a few nervous minutes when he detoured under a tall bus, but he finally came over to me. I grew up with a silver standard poodle; they are quite possibly the most intelligent dogs on earth and the threat to this one really was nightmarish.

He was charcoal gray, clipped in a natural style---clean face and feet and about two inches long all over---and wore a narrow black leather with flat goold diamond-shaped studs. (Yes, I usually DO dream in vivid detail---when I remember it.) The script on his nametag was very ornate---I wasn't sure if it said "Rudy" or "Buddy", but I'm going to say Rudy, because it's more of a poodlish name, whereas Buddy sounds more like a Lab or mixed breed.

There was a fancy gold chain with an open hook on it that I tried to attach to Rudy's collar so I could lead him. It took me a couple of minutes, and he almost wandered away once, but I rigged it so that I could hold the chain instead of trying to bend over and grab his collar and walk like that.

I woke up, and it was a little after 7---new game plan is to pull an all-nighter and hit the food bank early, since it worked so well last week. My sleep schedule is buggered; falling asleep between 4 and 5 and sleeping til 10 or 11. I've tried getting up early, didn't help, tried decaffeinating (involuntary, but still), didn't help.

It's the heat. I mean, right now, it's after midnight and it's still 87F. At this rate, by September, I'll be keeping vampire's hours....


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To begin with, my shoulders have been giving me heck the last couple days. Thursday night was bad enough that I popped a muscle relaxer (running low and no refill so I'm trying to be thrifty with them)...that left me loggy enough that I took a five-hour afternoon nap---and still managed to sleep last night for the usual hours. Had a series of dreams the last hour or so, not that they took anything like that long.

I was walking down Dixon---don't know why (car trouble? exercise?)---when BC and Daughter drove past in his previous station wagon, not the current one and offered me a ride, which I turned down. After they drove off, Mrs. BC hailed me. She was sitting there reading a book, and there was a bookstore behind her. This was at a new and improved version of Pineridge, which has never been much of a plaza for books, new or used.

I went into the bookstore and wandered around---the place also had New Age tchotchkes---and somehow wound up hired to enter info into a database for some rich collectors. Oddly, it was the two doctors from Nip/Tuck, which isn't a show I'm a fan of, although the Misha ep was highly amusing. They lived together, and I was working at their residence...there was a scene with them showering---separate showers, and me trying not to be too obvious about looking.

One of the docs took off---the one I think of as the Wilson-type--- and I was trying to work on the database. I was supposed to be entering the serial numbers from the packaging of the still-sealed collectables, some kind of action figures, but the database shifted on me and I realized I'd erased half the info for Krull and was overwriting it with Conan...the other doc, the one who was Dr Doom in the Fantastic Four movies paused in his breakfast to help me. He must have been on a low-carb diet, because his plate was heaped with meat and more meat.

From there, I found myself back at St John's (which I attended K-8th grade)...I had almost a half-hour left of lunch, and was trying to get some people together for a game, something like Trivial Pursuit. My schooltime BFF went into the girls' restroom, while I was looking around and wondered it the library was still down the hall. Went in there, and yes it was, but the layout had changed, there was an area with two librarians you had to go through to get to the books. One of the librarians recognized me, was also class of '74 (Monica), and wanted to know what I'd been doing since then. I started telling her, trying to moderate my language and substitute 'heck' for 'hell'.

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Used bookstores...there used to be a bunch of them, but these days, I can only think of one in the whole area (aside from book sections at thrift stores, which isn't the same), and the one that's left is horribly disorganized and doesn't take plastic. And I miss them! I can think of so many that have closed over the years: Kish's, Thorn's, Mary Dee's, the Armchair Adventurer, the Book Worm, the Book Xchange and a bunch of others whose names I can't recall.

SyFy ran Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer last weekend, and I had it on in the background. I suppose that's what prompted Dr Whatsisname to show up. I think even my subconscious is trying to get me a job---and working for a couple of hot guys who play with toys sounds like fun.

Things have changed a lot since I was in school. BC and I were chatting with about that recently: We gradulated in the same class, and his daughter currently attends the same school---except these days, the students don't have lockers and the campus is surrounded by six-foot fencing and gates. In our day, not only were there lockers, there was an open campus, so if you forgot something, you could go back at any time and get it.

Sometimes, it's hard to believe that I'm old enough to have kids that age, and I know classmates who are grandparents, which floors me. Yes, my high school graduation was 31 years ago next month, but...man, it's true: Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans.
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I dreamed I met a guy in some kind of classroom or learning environment. It wasn't JDM, but that type---a big bear of a man, dark hair going silver---he was about my age, maybe a tad older---tall enough to make me feel petite, very affectionate. Not afraid of PDAs---at one point, he embraced me and swing me around in the hallway or foyer. When the course was over, the instructor reminded us that she'd predicted one of us would fall in love---and I had. I gathered up my stuff and went out to meet him (this was the hug and swing scene).

Next there was a shower scene; I was in some kind of public shower, like maybe at a gym, in the ladies section, and there was this creepy young boy there watching me. I told him to leave---he didn't---so I picked him up, carried him out of the room at arms' length (still starkers and dripping) and threw him into the corridor outside. He was small enough that it was no great effort for me, and I didn't feel at all guilty about flinging him the way I did.

There was a group of women---bridesmaids, but not mine, alas---GK was one of them, and she showed me a bracelet she'd made to complement her outfit---it was big lavendar beads and gold wire. Then I got together with my boyfriend...the place where the wedding was being held was packed, and he ended up sitting in the pew ahead of me. (It was like at the movies, when the ushers are trying to fill up every seat in the row, and that was how it worked out.) I was thinking of asking someone if they would switch with me, when another couple came in and sat in my row, and the guy was Bruce Willis. I was more concerned with being reunited with my guy. The funny this is, I have no idea whose wedding it was supposed to be. It was very Hollywood in terms of guest list (although Bruce is the only one I remember), but GK as a bridesmaid?

There was also a snippet about couseling a teenage girl with an over-protective mother....

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Breaking it down:

I was reading something last night that mentioned taking classes as a good way to meet people. He really was a wonderful guy. I remember being dazed that he was as smitten with me as he was.

The shower scene...well, I *am* having plumbing problems, and I have resorted in the past to showering in the college ladies locker room. Not crazy about it, but sometimes ya gotta do what ya gotta do.

The wedding...okay, I will confess, in my obsessional brain, I've fantasized about having a Hollywood-themed wedding...but it was classic Hollywood---the 30s and 40s---NOT today's Hollywood, which strikes me as over-the-top and tawdry much of the time. Definitely NOT lavendar, either. The fact that the guy was comfortable with escorting me to something like that was cool, although being separated like that was not right. (He looked good in a double-breasted suit---interesting color, kind of a smoky blue or amythest.)

I think the bit about the girl with the over-protective mother was a hint to get back to work on my novel; that sounds like Darby and her mom. The trouble is, I have a book to read before Tuesday, a story assignment to write before the 28th, another idea I want to write that's NOT assigned OR part of the novel---in short, I'm overwhelmed.

Guy sure was yummy, though. Hope my subconscious is prescient!
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Last night I was in very bad headspace. Took a muscle relaxer and two ibuprofen before I turned out the light and slept for six solid hours. Got up to answer a demand from my kidneys ("Make room! Make room!"), then went back to bed and zonked for another two and a half hours. Must be the time change catching up to me....

Just before I woke, I had a series of dreams...driving in moderately heavy traffic with a woman who was a very aggressive driver and scared the snot out of me...then having dinner around a big table with a bunch of people, including Doc, and someone handed me a catalogue of made-up joke products...after the dinner party, I was at Kat's. This wasn't her trailer, or any of the houses where she lived, but it was her place. She came in and said good morning, and I asked if all her relatives had gone back to Texas or wherever. She said they'd left early that morning, thank goodness, because she was tired of tripping over a houseful of people. I said I'd leave if she wanted to have the place to herself, but she said no, she was glad to see me. She wasn't sick, she was alert and energetic.

Either my subconscious is trying to console me, or I'm channeling ala Crossing Over...either way, it was reassuring. I miss her constantly.

I'm also cheered to hear that Trauma (NBC, 9 PM Mondays) is going to be around for another ten episodes. ( What's really cool is---cut for casting spoiler ) Ten more weeks of Cliff Curtis makes me happy! Who knows, if enough of you lovely folks tune in, we might even get a second season!

Tomorrow is St Patrick's Day---I must remember to include green in tomorrow's ensemble.
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So here I am, waiting for my clothes to dry. I threw everything into the wash except the schmatte I'm wearing, and made the mistake of programming the washer for "Sanitary"---which apparently means boiling everything for an hour and rinsing and spinning for another hour. Grr. Next time, I'll opt for "Express Wash". (I've never SEEN such complicated appliances---I think they're designed for MENSAns.) For clothes, anyway. I'm thinking seriously of grabbing my bedding from home and sanitizing that.

The weather is raw, wet and decidedly icky. I'm staying here instead of heading home to check my mail because it's supposed to clear up later, and I'm not going farther than WalMart in this slop if I can help it. (They have a WalMart even closer than I do, though I like "mine" better.)

I wish I could remember the dream I woke up from this morning. SPN, something about Gabriel getting drunk, spilling his flask on the bed so there were just a couple swallows left, "magicking" it back into the bottle and thinking as he chugged it, that it tasted like Tide. Go figure.
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Last night GK called (in the middle of WNTW, timing!) and announced that she was scheduling me for Kat-sitting duty. She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed has drafted me today from 2-9 and Wednesday and Friday from 5-9. I had my calendar handy and was able to verify that I/we have no dogs on those days.

Last night I even dreamed about dog training---I was in the backseat of a convertible with a yellow Lab puppy. The couple who owned him was in the front seat, talking about how he seemed to be afraid of car upholstery...the other side of the backseat was clawed down to the foam. I had him on my lap, and he seemed calm and happy. I'm not sure what I did about his fears....

Hormones are playing hell with me...signs that I may be getting punctuated after about nine months without---really, I'm OVER this. Ready for my cronage, thank you. It's probably contributing to the fact that I have been sleeping very badly and hurting a lot. Not so much the usual pit-of-the-stomach pain, but my shoulders---there IS no comfortable position, and they wake me up numerous times every night. My first action every morning is to grab the Excedrin.

Now to go find some breakfast, and take care of some "bidness" before I head over to Kat's....
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Okay, when it comes to fantastic dreams, last night totally pwns.

First, I had a Leverage dream. There was something about a pawnshop, and Jeri Ryan's charachter wandering around asking if "the noses" had been done yet...it didn't dawn on me til I woke up to tinkle that the title of the episode was, of course, "The Nose Job"....

Wait, it gets better!

Then after I went back to sleep, I dreamed Jensen Ackles kissed me. He was talking to a handful of people*, me included, something about the right mindset for doing certain scenes, and then he said to me: "Okay, I'm going to kiss you." Which he did, briefly and a little off center. My brain was short-circuiting, going OMGOMGOMG! I'm kissing Jensen Ackles**! I completely missed whatever he said next, then he kissed me again, and this time it was dead-center and somewhat longer. I whimpered slightly when he stopped, which made him grin. The third kiss, I caught his bottom lip with mine, and it was more like a kiss-kiss. I'm still not sure what kind of point he was trying to prove, but he's welcome to come back and give me another lesson any time.
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* He was wearing jeans and a madras plaid shirt, thereby proving that my subconscious has a fashion sense all its own....
** He was just the right height, too. How often does *that* happen?!
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I did finally crawl into bed and snooze for about 3 hours---until the trailer trash over my back fence had a fight about something.

Dream (featuring sbjb: I was on a cruise with SBJB, and we were lounging by the pool...big sunglasses, umbrella drinks, monster tray o' nachos, the works. I had on an over-sized tee that I've owned IRL for about 20 years. It's blue with a seahorse, shells and seaweed outlined in white. And white shorts, which I've never worn in my life, although they were modest knee-length bermudas, nothing risque. You, my dear SBJB, had on similar green shorts that matched your over-sized tee. Printed across your bossom in white it said: "No, no! I said bring me a virgin AND a margarita!" We were talking about the books we were reading, but I don't recall the books or the dialog, alas.
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The other weekend when I was in Orlando, I saw this fabulous belt at Torrid. Size 4 fit me perfectly, and I had visions of pairing it with the faux leather jacket I got a couple years ago. (It's too boxy without a belt, and this is *exactly* the sort of belt I had in mind.)

If I ever find the geniuses that put their website together, I'm going to line them up and slap them til they've all got nosebleeds. NOT user-friendly.

So I called customer service, went round and round with them, only to find out that shipping was an outrageous $7---they wouldn't comp it, I asked---and damned if I'm paying that kind of money to ship an item that's only $15.98 (on clearance---it was $22 in the store).

Probably just as well, considering the state of my finances, but it's frustrating.

Speaking of being damned, I had a lengthy, confused Supernatural dream this morning. (No spoilers unless I'm psychic.) It was set in one of those typical very small towns, and Lucifer was coming. Most of the people were barricaded in the hotel. Sam and Dean were around somewhere (they never actually made an appearance), and they had stashed their duffel bags in a shallow room or closet that had no door, and it was right next to the room where most of the people were gathered. There was talk among the refugees, enough that characters emerged, so that you kind of knew who was in over their head, and who would try to make a deal and so on.

In an attic somewhere in town, Lucifer had to hang himself from a pipe---that was going to release him from his human vessel: He would still have a physical form, but it would be a demonic manifestation. Then there was a grotesque parade down the main street, where he was riding on a float being pulled by suffering humans with bodies heaped all around him. The people who hadn't made it to the hotel, which was where the parade was headed, were wailing and averting their eyes and being smote. One woman was trying to shield her baby with her own body, but it didn't do any good. There was no resolution to it---I woke up---and it was fairly surreal and disturbing.

I haven't been getting into the whole Apocalypse storyline; I suspect this is my subconscious going, "Get on with it, already!"....

I slept for ten hours and felt like I could've slept for a couple more. Even got some REM sleep that I remember...one, I was buying a house; there was a semi-circular patio area with saltillo tiles, a pool that sloped downward like a boat ramp---it had a very rough textured finish, I think I was having flashbacks to the walls in the hallway I was in yesterday---there was a fireplace on the far side of the pool; it and the wall surrounding it were off-white bricks. The owner who was selling it was Robert Conrad, circa 1977.

I wish I could remember more details of the dream I was having when I woke up, it was something about how I was driving my Uncle Frank's old tan Chrysler, and I parked it somewhere and these people had it towed...I was screaming and very upset and they were threatening me...I think the people were Family---I was thinking about the book "The Godfather" last night---I just wanted my car back.

Best night's sleep I've had in MONTHS....

After crashing hard around 2:30 AM, I woke up four hours later and couldn't get back to sleep because my back was killing me. I had some cheese and crackers, watched William Powell in "The Kennel Club Murders", took some prescription-strength stuff for my back and finally went back to sleep for a couple more hours.

I still feel out of it---not hungover, just really fatigued---and I had at least one weird little dream that I can remember. I was in a Goodwill, and I found a very pretty deep rose pink dress in a satiny fabric that I wanted to try on. It was long dress a ruffled A-line skirt, and I had the idea of cutting off the skirt and turning it into a petticoat to wear under the dress I had for Dr. Bizarre's wedding. Except I couldn't find a changing room, then people kept pushing past me into the changing rooms, and when I did get into one, I couldn't secure it, and people kept walking in on me. Then I couldn't find the dress, which I never did get to try on.

I'm tweaking my wee Watchmen crossover---spent ages wracking my brain to tell me that the name of Ozymandias' base was Karnak---thank you, brain. That was quite a feat for you today.

Right now, I can't even summon the energy to go to WalMart. Meh. I'll make do with what's in the pantry.

A very odd dream woke me up this morning: I was flipping channels on TV, and one of the local newsgirls was saying something about fan reaction to the death of Stephen King.

Which caused me to wake up going, WTF?!

I mean no harm to Steve whatsoever. Mind you, I've never met the guy, I know him purely through his books, but I've read enough of his non-fiction to have developed a liking for him. As a writer, I'm somewhat ambivalent: His output is fairly staggering, and I can't help but envy that---on the other hand, the literary merit of said output is hit-or-miss. Some of it is enthralling (I still remember many years ago cutting work for "restroom breaks" and reading chapters of The Stand in a stall), some of it, pointless. (IMO, Tales from a Buick 8 was a HUGE disappointment.)

Have I read everything he's ever written? Do I own it all? To both, no. I fell behind a few years ago as far as reading goes (Tales from a Buick 8 really set me off---I was expecting Christine and got The Tommyknockers.), and during the last book purge, expunged all but a handful of titles that I genuinely love. (Christine, The Stand, Different Seasons*, The Eyes of the Dragon, The Talisman, Needful Things all come to mind; there many be a few others on that shelf, but those are the cream.)

Also retained: On Writing and Danse Macabre, both non-fiction and fascinating. (Although I disagree about the road to Hell being paved with adverbs, but that's just me.)

I'm not sure what spawned that snipet of REM, but I hope it wasn't precognition!

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* Rita Hayward and the Shawshank Redemption is my favorite Stephen King work of all time, and I was SO glad that the movie did it justice. I think Frank Darabont TOTALLY deserved the Oscar for best adapted screenplay---Forrest Gump, my ass!---if you read the novela, you realize he had to create dialogue out of whole cloth and did an amazing job of it.

Woohoo, the crossover has gone to beta.

Now I can get back to work on cream_fudge's prompt.

( Meanwhile, I had an odd little dream this morning. )

Had a very strange dream...all the lawns on my street were replaced with astroturf. I thought the house next door had been torn down, because there were trucks driving past, but it turned out the back wall of my garage had been ripped open and they were going through there. There were vines growing all over and parts of my house were skeletal.

Clearly, my subconscious is very worried about home repairs.

Astroturf: Never have to worry about mowing again or getting nailed by Code Enforcement.

House next door torn down: I hate those asshats, but they won't go away.

Hole in garage: Not my garage---BC tore his garage down recently because Code Enforcement was down on him, and it's still weird to drive past and not see it.

Vines: Kat has been admiring my flame vine, which is thriving.

Skeletal house: I'm still freaked about the hole in my roof. THAT'S the thing I need to attend to as soon as I can after paying my property taxes. Well, that and getting a better car.

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EDIT 2/17: Holy crap, THAT was precognition. Today they tore down a house around the corner from me. Seriously bulldozed that mofo. It's rubble. I had no clue it was in the works, so cue the Twilight Zone theme.