A Morning Blog/Here’s Blogging at You
I never really thought of myself as a night owl, although I’m definately not a morning person. When I look back upon my life, all the things I’ve done, all the people I’ve met, places I’ve been, all the important stuff seems to occur in the evening. At least, that’s where all the fond memories are anyway. So, I suppose I should find it not too unusual that I tend to blog more in the evening. There’s something about the end of the day, the accumulation of the day’s events that increases my desire to blog, I suppose. Today brings a rather unusual morning blog. I’m actually blogging over coffee. Coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee. We don’t have the best coffee at work, but it’s tolerable. Bad coffee is better than morning email by a longshot, so I always make certain that I can sneak away for my daily shot. Some days I don’t get to escape until after 11:00. I don’t enjoy those kind of days. Those are the kind of days that your monther warned you about. Those are the kind of days you wish you’d slept in until afternoon.
Today is shaping up to be a good day, actually. I got in the car and happened upon a Steely Dan set. I love Steely Dan. I felt like I had just won the lotto or something. It’s been nice out lately. I had the windows rolled down in the car, the sunroof open/pop top up, and I was feeling alright. Most Steely Dan songs have just enough of a sardonic twist that I can enjoy them without feeling sad, and just enough of a complicated melody that I feel like I’m almost listening to jazz. It’s not bad jazz, just sophisticated pop, I suppose.
I guess one possible reason for this out of the ordinary morning blog is that I had a very strange dream last night. I had this dream that I was having tea with a bunch of dignataries. I was having tea in this chi chi restaurant and enjoying myself, but I was complaining about the artwork on the wall. They had some priceless photograph on the wall, but I was complaining that I did not care for the frame. I turned to the person on my left and said, “Don’t you think that should be in a wooden frame? Have you got a point driver?” And he said, “Why yes, yes, I do” and proceeded to help me re-frame the artwork. Very odd dream, it was. Usually I don’t remember my dreams. I just wake up and assume that they happened. That somewhere, in the deep dark, bowels of my brain, they exists and I only occassionally hear of them through the network news or by means of attack carrier pidgeons who hover above my bedroom, in my dreams, of course. But this dream stuck in my head. Which is actually rather hard to do. Nothing seems to stick anymore. So now this has me wondering. Why? What’s next? What will this evening bring? It’s all very strange. An odd new world of dreams. At least, it’s new to me, as this is the first one I’ve remember in a long time.
Speaking of the more mundane, I’m possibly painting the office this weekend. Finishing cleaning, possibly painting, and getting ready for the wooden floors. It should be fun. I can’t wait to get it over with so I can move in there and enjoy it.
Until next time, this is Carol, the Carol in “Carol’s Little World” signing off.
