...
And Snail MacGyver has come by a couple times to at least finish up what was left undone in the yard. My mudroom roof is still leaking, only now in different spots. It's finally cold tonight... but rather colder than fall usually is and it was almost outright hot here the other night. So. Whatever.
I am up very early and am going to try getting back in bed soon, but I was dreaming I needed to do some work at my parents' restaurant, and it was a wreck. The doors were all impossible to lock. You'd lock them and they'd open anyway. Trying to clear the place of reveling patrons and finally starting to succeed when three Hispanic criminals tried to get on the action.
I sent them packing. I started to get everything cleared up, but soon I'm in some other restaurant and my mother is asking me if I saw Oprah Winfrey, and I said, "Yes, of all things, I couldn't get away from the TV." This upset my mother because she was trying to introduce me to Oprah, who was right there in the room. I said to Oprah, "Pleased to meet you. I don't watch TV." And then I went back to cleaning my father's canoe and trying to get the locks on their restaurant to work right.
There were some workmen out there I could hear discussing the merits of raping me. I couldn't keep them out to prevent them from doing it, but one of them just came in to tell me how lucky I was to be a local. If I'd've been from, say, the Midwest, I'd've been toast. Were they out there googling prospective rape victims? Thanks, fuck. Get out.
I had to give up on the locks and go back to my parents' house, but stopped to tell a young man I never see who was nonetheless very close to me that I thought I was going to have to stay with my parents because things were too much of a mess to just get cleared up tonight. He said he wanted me to stay with him, which was upsetting the young women hanging around him. He scooped me up in his arms and my legs were around his waist. I think we were going to camp out together so I didn't have to deal with my family, but not right then.
And Oprah's boyfriend who looked like Redford wearing his best cowboy hat, drunk on chocolate cupcakes and purposely knocking them off the tops of artfully heaped trays full of them, picking them up off the floor and putting them back on the trays, was pissing off Oprah big time. I said, "Nobody'll care. It's chocolate."
My grandmother was in there, too, and my sister and brother-in-law, and a guy a lot like Buddy Hackett, and a meeting room, but there was too much chaos to pin that all down. Oprah's restaurant was dark and like a cave. My parents' restaurant was like a disintegrating atrium with a pool in the back section that floated my father's canoe. My parents' house was a mansion about four times the size of their actual one, and their actual one is aerobic exercise just to get to the bathroom from the kitchen. But they were all over the place and physics wasn't applying properly and lots of parts of buildings and parts of nature, which makes this the relative in the absolute and I was having to get the relative squared away to go out and spend the night with my young man in the absolute.
So I woke up, wrapped myself in alpaca and made myself a mug of hot chocolate. Now I'm going back to bed.
always and any time....
