(no subject)

Today is the day of the slow start. I made coffee without coffee and appear to have developed the sniffles. The brain is also slow. And kitchen sink is the slowest of all.

I want to go back to bed and sleep until it's all past, for I am exceptionally sleepy, but I have stuff to do.

The insult to injury today is that Facebook suggested I friend my stepfather. I miss Les, but that doesn't mean I want to friend his ghost account.

ETA: It appears I am unwell. Not an extreme virus, but an uncomfortable one. This explains the slow start to the day and the slower continuation. I have a sink plunger, though, thanks to Donna.

(no subject)

When it became rather obvious that I was not going to get much done today at all (that this morning was a blimp and not a blip), I decided to nap, to encourage my unwellness to find its way out of my body. I'm hoping this is a 24 hour bug, but I fear it might last a bit longer. One of my neighbours left the front door open again and so I ended up with fever dreams in thirty degree heat.

My favourite sequence in the dream was when there was a very odd recording of Carmen. I was listening to it with a couple of other people. It was more a recital in a living room than a performance and I don't know why my brain chose Carmen, for it's not at all suited to a small-scale quite recital, but there it was, in my brain, in someone else's living room, on the television. We were trying to find more of it on ancient records, and then my dream detoured in several places, including digging up the driveway and filling it with springs and coils.

Finally, we settled back to listen and the opera sang out again. This time it wasn't Carmen (but it was definitely Bizet) and I puzzled over it.

"You know this?" asked someone in my dream.

"I do, but I don't think it's Carmen. I'll remember it in a minute."

"I have the words. I'm a singer. Can you find me the place?"

I failed miserably. His libretto lacked music and was all in modern Hebrew and we were speaking in English.

"They're singing in French, "I pointed out. "I can understand the French and I can read the Hebrew, but I can't make them match."

I looked at the Hebrew again and it wasn't pointed and I realised I was dreaming, for I can't read unpointed Hebrew well (ie I can hardly read it at all) and I marvelled at the power of dreams for I was actually reading it, word by word and it made sense. Then, because I'd reminded myself of the paucity of my Hebrew, it stopped making sense.

"Stupid dream brain," I scolded and woke up to thirty-one degrees and wondered at my neighbours' common sense.

Why am I telling you this small section of a very long and convoluted and musical dream? Well, it's a very neat metaphor for my life right now. I need to do more rehydration, so I'll let the curious work out the metaphor for themselves.

PS Carmen is not one of my favourite operas.

(no subject)

What I *meant* to post about today was how very stuck I am on sorting out my computer needs. I need a new computer for this one is almost dead, but haven't progressed too much further than that and the fact that it has to be compact (but not a notebook, for I have a netbook) and must do all kinds of office things and that I also need a multifunction printer. And that it must last a few years and be inexpensive. All these things. Not greedy at all, am I?