Bizarrest Dream Ever
I had a super wierd dream last night. The setting was Samios foods - the deli down the road from my place, but it had less stuff and a more family aspect - it was almost run from the front of house. I went in to buy some cheese and baklava and you’ll never guess who was in there, playing with one of the owner’s kids … Eric Clapton. We joked around a bit, and I pretended I didn’t recognize him, until as I left I called out, “good luck on Tuesday!”
If ever there was a sign that I’m destined to go to this concert, that was it.
Not a bad weekend, really, NOT AT ALL.
I started off with a slack day on Friday, made pasta for lunch with Leyts. Saturday Joseph came over to look at a project I’ve been wanting to do for a while on my balcony, involving stainless steel cable. And Saturday night, a fun bbq at Rob B’s place, at which I got thoroughly **SMASHED** and then didn’t make it going out afterwards. I was keen as mustard to hit the town in a big way, but by the time I got home I realized (everyone else realized it long, long ago) that I wasn’t in any condition to do anything besides go directly to bed.
Sunday was pretty merciful - I didn’t suffer too badly, but I definately needed real coffee and a greasy breakfast, so I spent some time at the Coffee Club at West End, reading the paper, and doing what I needed to do to get through the day. I worked that afternoon, and here I am, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.