I don’t want to hear about your dream unless I’m in it.

Last night I dreamed about my sister for the third night in a row. They aren’t nightmares, but I’m certainly getting tired of it. Last night we were decorating for a Brady-Bunch themed Halloween party in the apartment where I spent my teen years. The very apartment where I did, in fact, decorate elaborately for a Halloween party once. I invited everyone! Nobody came but Colleen and her boyfriend. They sat around awkwardly for 20 minutes and left. None of that had anything to do with the Brady Bunch. In fact, nothing in my life except last night’s bizarre dream has anything to do with the Brady Bunch. I have, thus far, led a blissfully Bunchless existence.

Joe’s Goals is down, and I may expire from pointlessness. Why do anything if I can’t check the little box? WHY??!

Ryan sent back a USB cable, along with one of these lovely cards painted by his wife, Huyen. I want some, but I have two boxes of note cards already, and only one person that I use them for. And I write that person twice a year, if I’m being particularly attentive. Obviously, I need more people to write. But not too many, as it’s very hard work for me to make my handwriting legible. Or I could write many people, and just have them hold the card against their foreheads and divine the contents psychically.

Working, working, waiting for Woody’s second extubation attempt. Go Woody!

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