Tuesday, March 25, 2008

It's 12:36

Do you know where your brain is?

Mine, I think, is in a slightly mushy steamy heap someplace around 7:30 this morning. That's the last time I recall it was in once piece and I was able to form a coherent thought. It's another one of those days, folks. WAY too much to do at work, which of course I could have averted somewhat by working over the weekend and/or at night, but damn it I don't like to do that because as it is there's precious little relaxation time in my schedule to start with. I mean, really - I got home at 5:45 last night, had to go back out to give the STBX my tax stuff at 6:30, then ran to Lowe's for some hardware, to the Food Lion for some IPAs, got home at 7, did the dishes, made some burgers, cleaned the cat box, looked at the clock and it was 8, had another beer, and THEN sat down at the computer, by which time I did NOT want to work, I simply wanted dinner and some time on the couch, so I surfed the interwebs instead of working as a means of thumbing my nose at this whole concept of "responsibility" and "self-motivation."

Left yet stiill undone was the laundry and painting the daggone baseboards in the Things' room, which has been left undone for a week and is bugging the everliving green snot out of me.

(Yes, it took a WEEK of undoneness to bother me enough to maybe DO something about it....what of it?)

Plus which, it has dawned on me that I NEED to shower every morning before going to work, or I get very very irritable and want to start smacking people. Random people. Random OLD people with some kind of embarrassing physical informity, preferably a colostomy bag or severe kyphosis. I tried punting pigeons but they're too frigging fast, and I can't slap around kids anymore because I have some of my own now and realize that smacking kids for no reason is generally a very bad idea indeed, so old people it is.

If you're old and infirm and see me headed your way today? Move over. Seriously.

Also? If my brain doesn't stop with the wild-ass dreams I'm going to have to dig out the home trephanning kit and have a go. Again. Because damn, last night, WHILE DREAMING, I was actually congratulating myself for the awesome cinematography in my dream. That's some kinda schizo self-awareness that I'm simply not comfortable with. To be quite honest, it really WAS a great shot, coming, as it did, backward off a smoke-grayed beach through the snaggled limbs of long-dead trees to reveal a drought-striken cove full of the hulks of ancient wooden warships stuck like dirty laundry on the long poles of immense, dead tree trunks, the whole works being silhouetted against the new shy pink of a slow-moving dawn while a voice-over spoke in hushed tones of the importance of this place as the last haven of man on earth once the machines came....

Truly a terrific shot, of that there can be little doubt, but my goodness, when I stop being a participant in the dream (which, if you're interested, had to to with finding the Golden Ocarina of Time (Zelda fans, rejoice!) and using it to save the remaining human population from utter destruction) and start DIRECTING it, it's time to find the NyQuil and take a second swig.

Holy shit.

And that wasn't the only memorable bit of dreaming I did. Never fear though, I won't bore you with details here. I think the whole cove-ship-Ocarina thing is enough for today.

But if you were me? You'd worry too, is all I'm sayin'.

And have a nice day.

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