After watching a two hour PBS special on John Lennon last night, I went to sleep to dream of George W. Bush.
I am not kidding.
Why did he crawl out from under that rock in Texas and make himself part of my consciousness again? Why?
In my dream he called some hens "guys." I said to him, "Those are hens. They are females."
We were in a giant department store.
Jessie's here. Everything will be under control. Owen's coming for the day. I have approximately one third of the house slightly clean. The dogs' bedding has been washed. All the sheets have been washed and the beds remade. The rugs have been washed. I need to risk death and take the turkey out to thaw as it is still in the bowling ball stage of defrosting (i.e. not defrosting).
I have rehearsal tonight.
I haven't bought rolls.
Well, what are you going to do?
I had an epiphany yesterday. I am not a Christian. Thus, I do not need to celebrate Christmas. Thank-you very much.
I told Jessie about this. She asked if the kids would all still get money and could we just do stockings?
I told her yes.
Well, one thing at a time. Mr. Moon has asked for a list. It will be comprised of this:
He can handle that. Maybe I'll push my luck and have him pick up rolls too.
What are you doing today? Do you have a fourteen-month old who can dust mop?
I didn't think so.