Yesterday, I succeeded in falling down the two stairs from the kitchen to the cattery (while carrying Wendy, who was not pleased) and banging heck out of my shin. At least I managed to avoid either falling on her or doing anything serious enough to require medical attention.
I had to jump-start the truck after it sat for five days; this, combined with some other misbehaviors of late is rather hinting that it needs both batteries replaced (yes, it's a diesel with a dual-battery system). Sigh. It turned over 120K on the way back from the post office last night, so it's due for a major service it isn't going to get any time soon The Mazda is flirting with 170K, and would really like new struts (it handled wonderfully, once upon a time, but now it's all about the body roll around curves :-)
I don't usually remember my dreams for longer than it takes to get out of bed, but I've been having some remarkably vivid ones lately. Last night's was more like reading a novel written by a cross between MFK Fisher and some fantasy writer (perhaps Madeline L'Engle) than like acting in a dream. It had Fisher's elegant episodal style, but although the group of people acting apparently thought of themselves as pulling merry pranks (and that was the fundamental mood of the dream), they were actually rather dangerous (one involved arson to the headquarters of some people they didn't like, with my pranksters laughing as they distracted the victims from the smoke and burning). I suppose it makes up for how long it took me to fall asleep -- I was wondering for a while if I'd forgotten how to sleep alone. :-)
Two nights ago, I dreamed I was in my house (which was not this one; it looked, in retrospect, more like my grandparents' house in Ponce, only larger) and there were litters of kittens in every bedroom. Different breeds in every bedroom, but multiple litters. I remember the Burmese kittens, dark brown and blonde, and the Abys, and... I went out into the living room to demand an explanation from the other people there, and they said that so-and-so had gotten back into breeding, and those six litters of Burmese were hers, and the Abys belonged to someone else, and ...
It was all rather odd.
It's sunny, the hills are spectacularly green, and the magpies are flirting in the tree tops. Who cares if it's cloudy?
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