And the winner is...

[rolanni]

Restless night, last night. I dreamed about being on a space station -- or possibly a large convention hotel masquerading as an interstellar liner, these things are mutable in dreams - which had been holed. Entire sections were sealed off, and I was one of a band of intrepid crazy people scurrying around the areas that had not yet lost pressure, gathering up air in Ziploc sandwich bags, so it could be taken back to those who had retreated to the core. [fe on]Gosh, wonder what that's about?[fe off] Anyhow, I shook myself awake half a dozen times, only to be soothed back to sleep by Mozart purring in my ear -- and right back into the same idiot dream. Gah.

With this as a preface, the day therefore started out a mite rustily. I did finally manage to get my act in gear to go out and collect SRM's taxes from the accountant, stopped at the gym, and cruised out to the post office, hoping for that promised check -- which, nope, still wasn't there -- and to mail off my proposed course outline. That's two items of almost-gainful employment now hopefully in line for Fall. My challenge is to find something a little closer in. Like, say, tomorrow.

Despite the disappointment at the post office, it was a pretty day for a ride -- bright and blue and breezy. Manymany smushed quill-bearers along the road, by which I deduce that the sap has risen and the March of the Porcupines has begun. Can the March of the Turtles be far behind?

The biggest Northern Harrier I've ever seen tried to carry Argent off of the Waterville-Winslow bridge. He missed, but only by a matter of a couple feet.

Oh -- and the winner referenced in the title to this post? That would be the driver of the sporty red drop-top, Maine license plate NOAH98, who passed not one, not two, but three cars doing the speed limit, with respectful distances kept between each, on a disintegrating country road -- against double lines, on a blind curve. Nice going, NOAH98. You're one lucky sumbitch, and I don't wanna be anywhere near you when your Fortunator chokes on a bad battery.

Comments

[alethea-eastrid.livejournal.com]

who passed not one, not two, but three cars doing the speed limit, with respectful distances kept between each, on a disintegrating country road -- against double lines, on a blind curve.

Clearly a refugee from the Greate Boston Co-Prosparity Sphere. I say this as someone who has lived in both Maine, and the GBCPS...

Aren't people like that speeeeeeeeeecial?

[serge-lj.livejournal.com]

gathering up air in Ziploc sandwich bags

That sounds like the kind of dreams my Sue comes up with. Must be a writer thing. If this happened to me, I'd tell myself that this makes no sense and thus it must be a dream. That must be a computer-programmer thing.

[magda-vogelsang.livejournal.com]

Hmmm...I'm a scientist myself, have done some computer programming (albeit mostly for classes) and test as a rationalist on Meijers-Briggs type assays (INTJ to be precise), but my dreams are something else.

I've had things happen in dreams which seem perfectly reasonable at the time, but make no sense whatsoever when I wake up and think about it. My personal favorite involved myself and a friend being driven around by a uniformed chauffer in my beat up old K-car (while someone was incidentally trying to kill us).

I also recall a recurring dream from my childhood in which my entire family were in a giant maze (I'd recently read about the NIMH rats) and in each room we had to figure out how to trigger the door to the next room without making mistakes and getting electric shocks. I'm not at all sure what the fact that I had this dream several times as a child says about me.