Before I forget, since this one is not a recurring one. I also dreamed that Canon and Nikon merged. There were all these people cheering because they announced that the future Canon and Nikon lens mounts would be uniform, and there would be adapters for Canon lens on Nikon camera, and vice versa. Yeah, I know, that’s why it’s called a dream.
Another recurring dream. I don’t dream this one that often, just enough to make me realize that I’ve dreamed this one before more than a few times. I’m on my way home and it’s imperative that I get home – I’m either carrying something home or somebody is visiting, etc. But I only vaguely remember how to get home. My home is always in an apartment building. I manage to get there, standing in the lobby, but for the life of me, can’t remember which apartment I live in. And I start doubting myself, and realize this place might not be the right place.
This time, the dream played out like this:
I’m driving, the streets look like those of New York City. There are constructions going on, on both sides of the street as far as I could see, and there is a lot of traffic because of that. I’m driving along trying to figure out which way I should go. Then I remember that my street is the 30th street and that I have to make a left on the 30th. So I make the left on the 30th, and somehow now I’m on foot. I’m carrying a bag of rice and the bag has 2 or 3 very small holes in it and the holes are positioned in a way that I cannot maneuver the bag to not leak the grains. But my building is just a short walk, and I get inside, stand in front of the elevators, put my bag of rice on a little table standing against the wall opposite the elevators. And I’m drawing a blank. What’s my apartment number? The doorman or security station is on the other side of the lobby, and they are saying something to me, but I can’t hear them. I’m afraid if they’ve noticed that I’m a little lost. Should I ask, ‘do you know which apartment I live?’ Um… no, that sounds just too crazy. They might throw me out. Which floor is it? Is it the top floor? No, that was long time ago in some other building. 4th floor! That’s sounds like the right one. But where were my keys to the apartment? Oh wait, do I really really live here? Maybe I haven’t moved in yet? Where do I live? What am I gonna do with that rice?
And then I woke up.
One of the unfortunate side effects of sleep deprivation, along with weight gain (mostly the ass since you tend to sit your ass down and actively search for a place to rest your ass every single moment of your day), body ache, fatigue and memory loss and other brain malfunctions, is that your house becomes increasingly untidy to put it mildly. And if you put the fact that you are a lazy major slob to begin with in the mix, you get a house that looks like a tornado swept through it depositing incredible amount of dust bunnies and dog hair in the process.
So when I woke up from my nap and let the dogs out while I checked my emails outside and found an email from dear uncle Thomson, which contained a link to a house cleaning joke, I had to LMAO even though it wasn’t that funny. How did he know?
Dear uncle Thomson is an English gentleman of 79 years of age residing in England, who I haven’t seen for… about 25 years or so, give or take. My family got to know him when he stayed at our place in Korea twice while preparing for visits of mission ships to Korea. He was such a nice man to be around, and we all affectionately called him uncle Thomson.
I haven’t had any communication with him until a few weeks ago when he sent me an email – he got my email address from my mom. Needless to say, it was a pleasant surprise. So receiving from him the above house cleaning joke obviously was funny since he hasn’t seen my untidy habits and is surely unaware of the fact that I’m a major slob (this could be debated because he could have seen my untidy habits since I was that young)? Unless of course my mom told him – my mom as in the one who was once so delighted to see a wooden sign that said ‘God blesses this house, but he doesn’t clean it’ that she insisted my dad buy it for me. Either way, the joke goes perfectly well with the state of affairs in my house. By the way, I really need to find that wooden sign and hang it up somewhere. It’s still in one of those boxes that I never unpacked after moving.
I took this one with my Blackberry Pearl a couple of months ago. Not bad for cell phone camera. I finally installed the Blackberry desktop software just now, so here it is. By the way, could the installation take any longer?
Georgia was being all comfortable unlike most of her pictures where she’s very conscious about the evil camera. It’s because she didn’t see it coming until I snapped this one, at which point she realized what was going on (look at her eyes), flipped herself right side up immediately after, and promptly ran away from me.
Having encountered no traffic on my way home today, when I let the dogs out, it was still bright outside. I decided that I’d bring my laptop outside and do some surfing, etc. I cleaned a corner of the patio table and powered it up and happened to glance towards the umbrella, which hadn’t been open since last fall. I did a double take, for there seemed to be two dozen or so of insects sitting at one spot. So I touched the umbrella stand to make it move to shoo off those insects.
OH. MY. GAWD. It wasn’t two dozen, it seemed more like in the order of hundreds. Suddenly chills ran down my spine with that feeling of being ambushed, of course these bugs would try this, try to blindside me, for 2 years of being slaughtered mistaken for mosquitoes, of course they’d try an ambush, they clearly outnumber my lone self! I hurried inside and grabbed Clorox Bleach spray I bought a few weeks ago because mosquito season is upon us and therefore I have to slowly build my ammunitions required for my bloody war on mosquitoes. I started spraying the umbrella. Hundreds of them dropped to the table, and what do you know? It was not an ambush, but an orgy! They were all friggin mating!
My realization of what these bugs were doing on my patio umbrella fueled my anger towards these bugs. They must have strategized to make more little bugs to build bigger troops! What a nerve! I sprayed like a mad woman – no need to point out to me I AM a mad woman, I know. It’s just an expression. And in my attempt to not miss any spot, I undid the string that held the umbrella. OH. MY. GAWD. AGAIN!!!!! I was mistaken. Thousands upon thousands, not hundreds, of bugs were dropping down to the table, most of them still locked in mating position. When that bottle of Clorox Bleach got nearly empty, I couldn’t find any more live bugs on the umbrella, and the table was covered with dead or dying bugs, rendering the table almost black. It was one disgusting scene, thousands of bugs on one flat surface of maybe 4ft by 2ft table. Ruined my appetite completely, which, I hate to admit, is not a bad thing at all. My hands still smell like Clorox though after washing them a dozen times already.
Serious Stuff. Seriously
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