(no subject)

So someone convinced me to join them on a journey where we'd be conveyed across oceans by these little personalized balloons attached to Mary Poppinsish umbrellas (of course it made perfect sense in the dream). I hadn't been sure of the safety of these contraptions myself, but my companion finally convinced me and we both paid our fees. My balloon filled with the gas more slowly than the other and I was cautious at first about where I was flying. The other person laughed at me for my overcarefulness, sure that nothing could possibly go wrong.

The balloon carrying me was suddenly whirled up in the air by a draft from somewhere, whirled up into a moving ceiling fan which popped it. As I hung in the air like some cartoon character who had just found himself hanging over the edge of a cliff, calling out to my companion for help, the other person began to berate me, saying they knew this would happen if the likes of me should ever be trusted with a balloon and since I hadn't taken proper precautions (ones which they had not seen fit to take themselves), it would serve me right to crash onto the ground.

And now that I'm awake I keep thinking how much I hate that feeling just before I'm about to fall.



Need to go back to sleep so I can wake up during business hours and call lots of people about safety nets.

Today

Remember how I posted a little after 5 a.m. and said I was going to go back to sleep? I didn't. At first I planned to do a few things in the morning, then take a nap either before or after lunch. But then it became a challenge to myself to see if I could make it through the day without going back to bed. Yeah, I'm strange. I'm aware of that.

In spite of sleep dep, I did manage to make a couple of phone calls without panicking so much I couldn't be understood. Unfortunately, those calls ended with me talking to voice mail or an answering machine, so I probably won't be getting anywhere with those people till Tuesday at the earliest.

After spending too much time sitting in this chair, I decided I simply had to go for a nice, long walk in some neighborhood I don't usually walk in. When I was walking on a relatively major road trying to decide whether to go straight or turn right at the next light, I noticed that at the side of the road between one fence and another was a space where a wooden stairway led down to a path about the width of a standard suburban sidewalk. So I walked a winding path through woods, past flower beds, past the ends of cul-de-sacs, and I watched as children and families did the same. The path ended--or at least the last fork I had chosen ended--in a rather nice neighborhood where streets had unfamiliar names. I have no real idea how far I went, but I can tell you it was much farther than my usual.

Now I think it's about time for one last check of the flist before I go to catch up on some sleep. Be good to yourselves! And if you happen to be near Frances' path, try to stay dry!