Dreams / work / musical

I’m only posting this to make Debbie pout, but last night I dreamed I was in a hot tub with Michael Weatherly and three other guys.  I was naked, everybody else was wearing trunks.  (damn… or something).  And what were we DOING in the hot tub, minds without shame wish to know?  Waiting for Obama.  Yup. I wish I was making this up, but I was waiting for Obama.  Also there was a bit of byplay about Michael Weatherly swimming with dolphins, and he said they had noses like a policeman’s truncheon.  No subtext there, move along!

When we got out of the hot tub, (Obama being a no-show) we realized we were in a Bavarian village, and somebody was trying to get married on a balcony (I saw my old boss François as a groomsman) at the same time there was a movie being filmed about Hitler, and the crew wanted to use the balcony at the same time as the wedding party, and I got out of Bavaria before there was a total riot. Note how all my major concerns of late are shoved into one untidy dream.  Woke up smiling, even if I didn’t get to see Michael Weatherly naked.

Worked late last night.  It’s boring as hell, what I was trying to do, but I tried to do it a week ago and all my scans disappeared, and then I tried to do it yesterday, and that part of the network went offline just as I was trying to complete it, so I stayed for an hour and got it done. The guys in IT are screechingly busy these days what with moves and upgrades but they are still unfailingly helpful and polite, so here’s a blessing on the lot of them.  I will miss them…. after the move I won’t be sitting close to them anymore.  Sigh.

I’m seriously grieving about my job change. It’s LUDICROUS.  I’ve done nothing but complain about it for the best part of ten years, but now I’m realizing I secretly loved it and was just whining for attention.  This makes me feel like an ijjut.  We grow too soon oldt und too late schmardt.

The LHC did not trigger the end of the world; I slept fine last night, as my dreams could attest.

Katie’s here contemplating what to raid the fridge for at lunch.  It’s so cute.  Especially now that I know she’s sharing her lunch every day with women who forget to eat. (Women who forget to eat…. didn’t Rita Rudner have a brilliant line to do with that??)

I’m seeing Mr. Music on Friday and we’re going to run through the tunes; he’s planning on feeding me.  Any guy who has a vault for a pantry HAS to be able to cook; I await the prospect with happiness.  The work too.

Last night I asked Paul, mOm, Mr. Music and Katie ‘what makes a great musical’.  Paul said “The tunes and how it’s put together,” Mr. Music said, “Song, story, presentation,” mOm said, “Singing and dancing!” and Katie said “Pacing and variety”.  I’m going to keep asking people what they think, but I’m using Mr. Music’s useful and terse guidelines for practicality’s sake.

I light a candle for the swift recovery of my former boss Owen’s son Ryan, who’s recently out of surgery.  On a less compassionate note, here’s a little squib for the swift arrival of the plumber; we’ve been waiting for a couple of days.  It’s okay, it merely confirms Jeff and I in our belief that we’d be better served in a different location.  Our own.