Confessions of a One-Track Mind

Got home from Mb's this afternoon and found A SNAKE in the middle of my kitchen floor. Yellow, about a foot and a half long. I used a sponge mop to pin it down, and picked it up with a pair of tongs (which I'll never be able to use for food serving again!) and flung it out the front door. What next, a bear in the bathtub?!

We're having canasta tonight, as J is busy tomorrow and Mb has something going on Saturday. Mb has contributed cheese and crackers, I've got a beef summer sausage, and I'm going to run by Publix for a beverage.

Had several odd dreams last night, THREE of which were about shopping. First I was trying on dresses, one midnight blue, one deep violet. Then there was one where I tried on a pair of apple green Kate Spade shoes---which I know damned well they don't make in size 12!---and finally, trying on beaded necklaces in a thrift store with GK and a gal from church. You can tell I'm frustrated about my finances when I'm shopping in my sleep!

More when I can....

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Excellent news, my food stamp benefits were approved. Not only that, they loaded the benefits onto my old card, so that I could access them immediately---"immediately" being "I just got back from Aldis, and it sure felt good not to agonize about what else I should be spending it on". My biggest splurge was a box of PopTarts. (I talked myself out of baklava and chocolate eclairs and chocolate-dipped wafer cookies.) Got rice cakes as munchies. Bliss! I have missed snacky things.

A timely birthday gift is going to assuage my concerns about renewing my driver's license. I feel like I'm channeling Nic Cage in National Treasure: "I'd really love not to go to prison."... I still have to renew my tag, but that's marginally less urgent. Driving with an expired tag isn't nearly as serious as getting caught driving with an expired license.

An email this morning from Big Red informs me that she has to be out of town this weekend, but where would I like her to lunch me next weekend? Oooh, the possibilities! I've told her I'll get back to her with an answer next week, so I can see what all transpires this weekend---I know Mb has promised me lunch at a place I used to go to with Kat, but on the off-chance that J hauls me kicking and screaming to Olive Garden*, I want to keep my options open.

A box from GK is enroute via Priority mail...it might even make it by the weekend, which would be lovely.

Had an odd dream last night. I was going to marry I guy I didn't care about in the least, but I was incredably excited about the wedding and the ring, which had three emerald-cut diamonds on the band. Part of the time, my maid-of-honor was some girl I don't know IRL, in other scenes it was Mb, which is who I would choose IRL. And there was something about putting ice cubes in a big plastic bag so they wouldn't dilute the punch. Wtf? IDEK.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

* That was me being facetious, because I can happily eat myself stupid at OG. If I haven't had breakfast especially, I can slurp down three bowls of soup, NO problem.

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Very strange dream: I went over to Mb's, nothing planned, just popped in...her living room was almost empty. There was a new wing chair in a red and white kilim print, which I admired. I sat down on another chair while she brought in her dining room set from a side room. Then there were two couches and a rug, a really gorgeous blue and white sort of Delft print, and the other one a brownish floral. She said she had $40K worth of new stuff, and I was privately thinking that those cats of hers were going to destroy it. I got up to look at the couches, and suggested a slip cover for the brown one. Mb wasn't sure about the rug---goreous Persian carpet, very colorful...I told her it was a classic, and as long as she confined the rest of the decor to the red, blue and white she had going, it would be okay.

She was waiting for an inspector to come by, and I realized it wasn't a good time for me to be there. As I went out, the inspector was coming up the steps, and he asked a workman if Mb was planning to tile the deck. I realized I didn't have my purse, so I followed him inside.

There was no sign of my purse, and now there were rows of bookcases. One was filled with Bibles, another had encyclopedias, a couple had cookbooks, still more had miscellaneous fiction. (No way Mb's place could hold all this, but in the dream, it did.) The place was full of people and I couldn't find Mb.

I went outside looking for her, and her yard was MUCH bigger than IRL. There was a group of people playing shuffleboard on a chenille bedspread, using glass bowls. I ran past them and saw Mb getting into a 70s land-yacht pimpmobile in Pepto-pink. I tried to catch her, but fell and woke myself up.

The whole thing struck me as somehow sinister, maybe it was the extreme emptiness. Although there was an elaborate cat habitat under a cupboard. there were NO cats, and more alarming, no sign of Jazz the Wonder Akita. I personally wouldn't mind if the cats disappeared, but I'd freak if anything happened to Jazz!

I called Mb this morning out of a lingering unease, and she told me she just entered a sweepstakes for a whole-house makeover. Maybe I'm psychic?!

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Mb agrees with me that the haircut is BAD. I was at her place last night---A/C, fabu! and we took advantage of her local pizzaria's two-fer Tuesday deal. (I've been craving pizza for weeks; I earned it.) It was a good night for to stay in and schmooze---it started raining fish just after we got in with the 'za.

I commandeered the remote for "Secrets of the Museum", which I really like. Asked Mb if it was geeking her out too much, she said no, it was kind of interesting to listen to while she was gaming on her computer. I told her watching this kind of thing is why I have such an array of trivia accumulated in my brain.

Had a dream, something about my dad being a junkman and bringing in a bunch of stuff. I was trying to find a big metal frame that I'd seen, to turn it into a room divider. Couldn't find it. There were several very old wheelchairs, and then I saw a really cool ironing board. I'm not sure how the mechanism worked, but when it was set up, it had a vertical pole beside it with horizontal bars so you could put hangers with freshly ironed garments on them. It was chrome-plated and really shiny and I'm lusting after it even now. I should invent it, if it hasn't been already.

*yawn*

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For starters, I'm 284 as of this morning. My reunion is a scant seven weeks away, and I'm hoping I can drop another 10 pounds between now and then. Being laid up because of my foot didn't help my progress, now it's getting to the season where my pores are starting to leak. Summer, guh!

I'm trying to decide what I'm going to wear to the event...I don't want to buy anything; I have tons of clothes as it is. The fact that most of my pants are quite baggy doesn't help. It's a Good Thing in terms of visible progress, but not so good in terms of having to spend money to replace old reliables with new, smaller items. Which leaves skirts? A dress? OMG, shoes?! What shoes do I have that are drop-dead? *wibbles* Because I cherish the small, forlorn hope that the love of my life will appear and be smitten....

Got caught up on the last couple eps of "Missing", and so far, everything I surmised has either been correct, or will probably be proven so ere long. I still don't really care about Ashley Judd one way or another, but regular Sean Bean for the win! Ditto Cliff Curtis! (And that guy playing Giancarlo ain't exactly a troll, either.)

Last night, I had an odd sort of dream, where SO came over to ask me about how to cook a big beef roast that he had. I told him he needed to start roasting at 500F for the first half-hour to sear it, then reduce the heat to 350F for the rest of the cooking time, total cook time 20 minutes per pound. (IDK where I came up with these numbers, but they sound about right.) He left, carrying his roast in a cardboard box, and I went back to what I was doing, setting up a rib roast that I was concocting.

Still in my dream, I tried to think of where I'd heard about the technique I was attempting, which consisted of carving the roast off the ribs, putting the ribs in the bottom of the roasting pan,arched side up with the roast atop the arch. Bobby Flay, I thought, on Worst Cooks in America.

I woke up and realized immediately that in fact it wasn't Bobby Flay, it was Roger Mooking from Everyday Exotic, it was supposed to be a caraway-crusted pork roast, and while I'd managed to separate the ribs from the roast, I'd left out the marinade/glaze stage. Ooops. My cookery show geek is showing.

Joyful Beltane to those who celebrate. Happy May Day to the rest of you.

Blessed be.

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I nodded off for a late afternoon nap, and just woke from an odd little dream.

Background---this morning, I was joking with BigRed that I have descended to the point where I can only tell what day of the week it is by what's on TV. As in, last might was Alcatraz (Monday), so today must be Tuesday (Justified).

Which perhaps accounts for the dream wherein Timothy Olyphant was painting my garage. (Oh, it gets better.) I'd just taken a nap---why I was napping in my garage, IDK, but I was slightly surprised to see Tim there...since Walton Goggins had been there when I dozed off. Tim and his assistant were painting the interior of my garage.

Said garage didn't have nearly the amount of crap in it as my real garage. The color was RED. Really most sincerely red. The cabinets had been stained dark brown, and I was going for Mediterranean style.

Tim was trying to do some kind of stained-glass technique for a mural on the back of the garage door, using a can of spray paint. He wasn't satisfied with the results and painted over it, remarking that he would just "freehand it in". He asked me to please get him something to lean on, and darn it, I jumped up to oblige and woke myself up.

What the fuck, self? Okay, so the last thing I watched before I fell asleep was some DIY show where they were remodeling a laundry room---mine is at the far end of my garage===and one scene had them painting it---beige!---but how did my sub-conscious morph it into that?! *marvels*

Mind you, I don't know WHO he was. It wasn't Raylan, it wasn't 47, it certainly wasn't Thomas Gabriel or Seth Bullock, and I don't *think* it was his character from Catch and Release. I'm pretty sure Tim himself doesn't randomly commit acts of spray paint in strange women's garages.

So who was my knight with a paintbrush? IDK, but somewhere in my labyrinthine synapses, he's waiting for me to come back with something for him to lean on to steady his hand while he paints. Poor guy's gonna have to keep waiting; I never have mastered the technique of going back to a previous dream.

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Last night was bad. Was either too warm or too cold, kept tossing and turning, and when I did sleep, I had nightmares.

Thankfully, I don't often have bad dreams, but these were doozies. First one, Mb and I were going somewhere in my car (odd enough, since she usually drives), when we drove under an arch where there was a pothole. (It was some subdivision that had fancy arches at the entrance and exit. We were exiting.) The pothole crumbled, and the whole car dropped straight down into the aquifer.

The water was only a few feet deep, thank god, but it still covered the car. I got out, but there was no sign of Mb, and I was afraid she hadn't been able to get her door open. She finally surfaced, and we stood there in the water, hoping someone would come to rescue us soon, because we were about 20 feet underground, and there was no way we could climb back up.

Another dream, something about being at a theme park-mall (?), being separated from who I'd gone with, which was Mb, her folks, and Doc Bizarre (? IDK where my sub-c get this shit from, I swear I don't). I stopped at a snack counter and ordered burgers for us, but left the area because of obnoxious kids before the order was ready and wandered around.

Found Doc, and Mb and her folks showed up. Everybody was hungry, and I said I'd taken care of it and I'd go get our burgers---that was all I'd gotten, burgers, because they were theme park-priced---but I couldn't find the reciept. I remembered putting it in my purse, but it was gone. (That's the only part of this one that I can figure out, because GK emailed me last night about a reciept for something, then emailed again a little later to say never mind---TG, because it was long gone.)

I had to turn all my cell phones off, because I found out there was a plan to blow something up using one of my cell phones as a trigger, and frame me. I didn't know which one, and I couldn't call anyone to warn them, because that might set it off. One time I hit the wrong button and it started dialing and I was frantic, trying to disconnect. At this point in my life, I have three phones and I may be watching too much Person of Interest....

There was a snipet with William Lucking as special guest star, although I think it was as his character from Sons of Anarchy, but earlier, when he was my age. There was serious stuff going on with SAMCRO, but I was only an old lady, so I didn't know what. There was also something about him giving me red licorice, which I'm occasionally in the mood for, although I much prefer black. Also? He was short. Shorter than me, and I *know* that's not right: IMDb lists him as 6'5"! Short or not, this dream was definitely the pick of the litter!

There was something about bullying, about being back at the grade school I went to, and these two kids, a boy and a girl, who were being teased by a bigger boy. I ran him off. I was self-satisfied, but when I turned back, the victims had vanished---his friends had hauled them off. The corridor was deserted, and I could hear the girl screaming way off in some distant area of the building.

Also at that school, but I'm not sure if it was the same dream, there was a long tunnel (There actually WAS a tunnel at the school, but that was between two buildings---this went away from the school, out under the street.) I was heading up the tunnel toward the school, where there was some kind of event going on. A girl and two guys passed me going the other way, and she said all I needed was a certain pair of shoes to complete my look. I looked down, and I had on a dark green cable-knit sweater and a navy blue pencil skirt. I was slender, and they looked really good on me, I thought.) Not sure what shoes I was wearing, but I wasn't sure if she'd been dissing my wardrobe or not.

There may have been more, but this is all I can remember. And that's bad enough.

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Here's what's going on: My car has been sitting where I wrestled it to since Friday evening. I don't have AAA or roadside coverage through my insurance. None of my peeps with AAA has been available for one reason or another. And while there was a time when I would have just changed the frackin' thing myself, that was before my knees, back and shoulders began giving me grief. Kneeling is out; these days, if I end up on the floor/ground/short furniture, I have a hell of a time getting back up, and I feel it for days.

Anyway, this morning, I was contemplating whether if I got a particular person's number from certain other person, whether particular person might help me out. The phone rang. It was PJ, asking if I'd gotten the car sorted out. When I replied that I hadn't, he said he'd make a call, and rang off. Okay, since I *know* he has AAA, I thought it might be that, though I had my doubts---AAA has gotten very snarky about seeing ID to prove that you're the person who officially has the membership.

PJ called back and gave me the number of his mechanic, who I am to drive over to my car so he can take a look at it. That'll be this afternoon after the shop gets back from lunch. PJ said they---the shop---would attend to it. (Not sure if that means putting the donut on, or if PJ's going to pick up the tab for a new tire, I hope! I hope! which would be a fab birthday present. Haven't I gotten pragmatic in my old age?)

Now "all" I have to do is get my tag renewed, and the status will be quo.

Tomorrow calls for a food crawl to take advantage of the restaurants that offer free goodies for birthday celebrants. I'd really rather do that in my familiar vehicle, POS though it may be. I'm going to be joined by Mb sometime after breakfast, and in the evening, we're headed over to J's for canasta.

Saturday, I need to get my tail in gear early enough to take my cans in for recycling for a bit of extra cash so I can see Contagion, which I'm *really* looking forward to.

The Sons of Anarchy season premiere was excellent; it's set up all kinds of things to come. Thankfully, Mb has agreed to record things for me so I won't miss out after I go back home to my cable-deprived premises.

I dreamed I was exploring the French house. I couldn't find any of the rooms that were posted, and there was a man outside watching me and making a call---I knew it was to les gendarmes!---and I was trying to get out of sight, but there wasn't anywhere that wasn't visible from the windows.


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Got back from Steak'n'Shake just after 1...a nice feast of carbs, so I was able to crawl back into bed and slept til 6. Woke from a dreadful dream wherein I was visiting Peter in NY and had my ID stolen from my wallet. I'd been in a store looking at some exotic spices that were marked down...turned my back for just a minute and my wristlet was gone...found it hanging from a display, money and ID gone. Went back to Peter's and ranted.

Lots of dreams like that lately, bad things happen, very angry at people...the other night, I was cussing out my boyfriend's dad (???), who was trying to take over my house and the last straw was when he damaged some special flowers and said he'd uproot them all when they were through blooming. That set me off; I started screaming curses at him and that it was MY house, motherfucker, and you can just get the fuck out! Where is all this RAGE coming from?! IDEK.

But this morning, I've had a shower and washed my hair, checked the balance and found out that my food stamp card has been loaded for the month. Yay!

This evening, the Memorial canasta tournament is scheduled for 6PM at J's. (Although you're welcome to show up at any time, sbjb, for munchies and schmoozing and loving reminisce. Or venting and telling it like it was, no doubt.)

Right now, I need to get dressed, go feed the ducks, then scan my coupons to see if I have anything to further defray the price of what Publix has on sale this week.

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First, I was walking down a highway to go to a frozen yogurt stand. I got there, and realized I didn't have any money. In fact, all I had on was my long-but-not-that-long sleep shirt and flowered panties. I started finding quarters on the ground in the parking lot,

Some guy sold me a tiny little two-seater Italian convertable, an old Fiat, I think, for $200. Nothing fancy; terra cotta-colored primer and rusty. I guess I went home and got the money? His was selling it because the previous owner had disappeared owing him money.

Anyway, I started dressing the part: I had on a black leather jacket and matching driving cap, and I was zooming down the highway at 2AM...had on a big gold wristwatch (Reminded me of the 150th anniversary Burberry special edition) and someone gave me another watch, also gold, leather band, Mickey Mouse, which I stuck in my inside jacket pocket with parts of another watch, because I knew that way it wouldn't accidentally get trashed. (Yesterday, Mb had on one of the TV shopping channels, and they were touting pleather jackets at premium prices, which I thought/think is absurd.) I knew I wouldn't casually chuck my REAL leather jacket in the washer.

It turned out that unbeknownst to the guy who sold me the car, there was a body in the trunk. (Previous owner.) The killer had put it there so as not to leave evidence in his own vehicle. (The Casy Anthony trial has left its mark.) The guy who sold the car ended up as a flame-broiled corpse, and the killer stole back the body.

When I looked in the trunk, there was no body, just rusted-out holes you could see the ground through. There was a snagged piece of thread or cloth that gave me a clue, though, and I took it to the police with my suspicions.

Then, I wasn't in the car any more, I had this...flying seat. It was about four feet long, like a cross between a banana seat and a motorcycle double seat, blue vinyl-covered, no steering, no visible power source, but it sure was fun to fly/drive.

I had a meeting with my handler, because apparently I was some kind of agent---and it was Gordon Ramsey, who took me into his study and was getting ready to explain the code I'd be using, which was on his wall as some kind of Gaelic motto, when I awoke.

I recounted this to Mb---she thinks I've watched too much TV. That still doesn't explain the fro-yo and panties....

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Got off the phone with GK a little while ago. I took an afternoon nap and dreamed about her and was motivated to call.

IRL, GK and family are getting ready to move from their home in MA to NM. Privately, I'm a bit freaked by this, because I feel like she's getting farther and farther away. Apparently, my subconscious has decided to offer its two cents worth.

GK and I were at her house, the current home in MA, which I've never actually been to, but I've seen pictures. Anyway, I was hanging out chatting while she was doing last minute cleaning on the empty house. (The Things and her hubby were at a nearby hotel so she could work in peace.)

I remarked that the place looked like the previous owner was an industrial carpet salesman who'd done his house in the remenants of several different seasons-worth of unsold patterns. Like I said, I've seen pix of the house. It doesn't have aqua and lime geometric wallpaper with a different aqua and lime wall-to-wall. Also, the artwork they choose to display is original, not insipid landscapes and fruit-and-floral prints circa 1978.

So, were talking, and she'd done as much as she can to clean, although really, it needed a complete makeover!---and we walked down a hallway from the living room, this one done in a red and black wrought-iron patterned carpet.

In the way things happen in dreams, we came out into a lobby: It was the hotel where the family was staying, and I gestured to a door leading to the parking lot, which was where I was parked, and because I really didn't want to have to deal with her offspring or her spouse. then we hugged and went our separate ways.

I wish I could remember the dream conversation, though I don't think it was anything earthshaking.

The real-time conversation was about the move, and what she's researched about the local library where they're headed---she's a mainstay of her local one, to the extent that they threw her a going-away party---and this and that. Just normal stuff. She was amused by my description of "her" decor.

I love the combo of aqua and lime, but I don't think I'd go gonzo with it in my living room. At one point, I *did* pick a lime green shade to paint my living room. Hey, it looked like such a nice, cheerful green on the paint chip. Sadly, this was LONG before the days of 2 oz. paint samples. On four walls, it turned into a seething, Chernobyl green. I lived with it for eight nerve-wracking years before I could afford to slap a coat of cheap white over it. (Really cheap white. The green shows through if the white gets wet.) I didn't realize how much that color made me tense up until after I painted and actually relaxed as I came down the hall in the morning.

Mind you, I do want to paint my bedroom aqua, but a much lighter shade than this was. I favor something about the color of a clear swimming pool on a sunny afternoon. Much more soothing.

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Had a very odd dream this morning: I was staying in Melbourne for some reason, in a big house with a lot of other people. (At least one of them was acting like an extra special snowflake and really getting on my nerves.) I'd just gotten back from an outing with the snowflake and others, was being pestered by some insufferably chatty, perky wench. I went back outside, thinking I'd get in my car and go some place where I could have a little peace for a while.

As I was standing on the front steps, a long black spaceship like something out of 60s sci-fi passed right overhead, heading for Melbourne airport. It was flying so low that it almost grazed the top of the building across the street. I commented to a couple gals on the stoop next door on how close it had come.

Then it hit the runway obliquely---I could see it from maybe a half-mile away---it was deflected and on fire. It pitched and rolled to a point well to the north and east of my position, where it exploded. Cue fireball. (US1/Eau Gallie area or thereabouts.)

A lot of people from the neighborhood got on a bus, I'm not sure if they were going to the crash site or trying to get away. I opted to go inside, where it had quieted down, and watch news reports. Two of the other people staying in the house came into my room with me as I turned on the TV, but as long as they weren't the snowflake and didn't babble too much, I didn't mind.

I know---there are strange things in my head.
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Was in bed with the lights out by midnight. Took a little while to actually fall asleep, but wasn't lying awake staring at theceiling for hours, either. Woke around 4:30 (bladder), took a while to get back to sleep again, but I did, and slept til 8:59.

Had some very odd dreams. The oddest was something based off Criminal Minds, where the unsub was going around throwing acid on people who did things like littler, spit on the sidewalk, not clean up after their dogs, etc. He was in an Art Deco building, and starting to spiral out of control and caused a panic.

Meanwhile, the BAU was on a case where the only way to draw the killer out was for Reid to get onstage at some kind of fair, and do a magic act. He was selecting a variety of silk flowers that had psychological implications, and turned down a hideous pre-made bouquet offered by the brother-in-law of the carnival owner, which was going to offend him and cause a crisis, because he was the one they were looking for.

And now I have to get my ass in gear and get out of here.
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I've spent most of the last 24 hours in air, it's lovely. The dogs have been furry angels, the cat comes and goes, the ducks are...feathered.

I had the lights off at midnight and slept for seven hours solid, got up early, went out intending to get a couple things from the store...ended up detouring and doing something I haven't done in ages---I went to a yard sale. At least, that's what they were calling it---it was, in fact, being held n a storage unit.

I spent a *total* of $4, for which I got four books, an interesting suede and sheepskin tote and a tropical floral bedspread (full). The books are a treasury of household hints---recent, but done in the style of the 50s. A Grange cookbook, probably from the 50s. And the piece-de-resistance, a big hardcover book of cars from the 50s, which I saw and snatched. The final book is on runes, it's going to AI, cos she's into that stuff.

Hit Publix and WalMart (because there are some things I will NOT pay Publix prices for), came back to the house, watched Overhaulin', had brunch, went upstairs and took a nap. A three-hour nap. Which I wasn't intending, because now I'll be up all night. Swell.

I must've needed it, though, because I had a LOT of REM, some of which I even remember. There was something about Kat down-sizing, and GK was helping her. Instead of the middle-class mobile home she actually lived in, she was in a grand house with a lot of antiques. Part of the dream dealt with some Murano glass sculptures that a gay couple had bought, and we had to get it out to their truck. They were carrying the life-sized glass alligator while I brought up the rear with a smaller piece, some kind of snake or sea serpent.

GK had also rearranged the foyer with a bunch of maple storage cubes being used to display a lot of old classic books. There was an ivory and gold bedroom set that I was lusting after, but wasn't sure it would fit in my room. Two guys came in, young and shifty---they were looking for some money that was supposedly stashed in the house. They were half my age, but I managed to catch them and throw them down a flight of stairs.

There was something else about books---I remember seeing a row of blue Hardy Boys bindings---but I don't know what was going on with that one. Three hours...I know I dreamed more than that.

Going over to J's in a little while for movie night. Am going to try to hook her on Justified. Wish me luck!
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Last night, I was in bed before midnight. My sleep schedule has been really messed up of late, so maybe now it'll settle back to something like normal.

Dreams...there was something about being at an airport, laden down with suitcases and bags and things, and having to go over and set it all down on a table and sort through it. There were things like, half a big bottle of shampoo, clothes that didn't fit, things I didn't need---in other words, a metaphor for decluttering and the journey of my life.

Shortly after that, I was driving on a dark road with only a red light in the distance. I got to my distination, which was some kind of community center. Everyone was very grim; there had been some kind of radiation exposure, which I hadn't known about. Some people looked at me like I was crazy for coming back.

There was only enough medicine for about half the people. When the leader (a Jason Robards-type---apparently my subconscious was recalling "The Day After") offered me a piece of paper, I declined. I wasn't going to apply for a chance at the meds, I was going to take my chances since I hadn't been there when it happened.

Clearly, the news from Japan is freaking me out, but wtf?!

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It was cold last night. I didn't turn on the space heater, although I woke shivering before dawn and wished I had---but was too cold to get out from under the covers to do it. Dreamed about Susie...we had been to some scrapbooking sale, and she'd gotten a bunch of "theme" pages and she was talking about what pictures she was going to use them with. Bizarre, since that really wasn't the kind of crafting she was into.

Woke up cold and depressed. Added a long-sleeved pullover, which helped with the cold, but was freaking out about the house. My mom used to say, "A place for everything, and everything in its place", and I was looking around going, "Where? Where do I put that? Or that? All this STUFF, I don't even---!"

I did what any sensible person would do: I went back to bed and slept for another three hours.

I did not magically feel better when I woke up. More weird dreams...I had been given or rescued a little brown dachsund, and I was panic-stricken, because I knew I couldn't afford a dog. Also, he needed to be housebroken. Life or death, because I was staying with Mags Bennett (from Justified), and she was threatening to turn him into sausage if he crapped on her rug one more time. We were in an old house, recently inherited, that was all paneled in knotty-pine and the rooms ran together like a labyrinth.

Shifted some stuff around in the dining room---I swear, it never ends, I just DID the dining room, but of course, things come in from other areas while you work on them, or you set something down "just for a minute"---and pretty soon there's a fresh patch of clutter. Arrrgh!

Went back and forth, working out there, coming back here for a quick game of Staries...what snapped me out of my funk was looking at a slideshow of the quake/tsunami devastation in Japan. That prompted me to give myself a mental bitchslap. I'm worried about a few boxes and some piles of laundry? Pfft, that's nothing.

Woke up this morning and took two Excedrin alongside my daily vitamin and iron pill.

Still feel like someone has stapled my right eyebrow to my skull.

May crawl back into bed; I think some of it is sleep deprivation. That damn dog barking til 4AM the other night set off a domino effect with my sleep schedule.

Would be nice if I could rejoin the dream I was having, about getting a very pretty emerald green dress made for me: The fabric was a stretchy metallic microfiber with little scrollwork ribbons outlined in black. It was going to be a long dress, possibly this one with less bling:



I especially love the sleeves, which are elegant AND would conceal my droopy underarms. And green is good color for me, especially that kind of jewel-tone.

Of course, going back to sleep won't get anything done around here. Yesterday was not too productive; I scrubbed a toilet and did dishes, neither of which translates to ridding this place of clutter.

The obnoxious neighbors have a motorcycle, and they're revving it in their driveway, which is right outside my office window. God, why are You doing this to me?!

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