A day of grey, a day of domesticity, a day that followed strange intense dreams. I day that came after another which included troubled siesta and heart palpitations. Yet is is a day on which I can sip my coffee from my little esspresso cups, purchased sometime in 2001 or 2, I do not remember, in Madison Wisconsin. A day when I could stir the schiuma of my esspresso with my diminutive silver spoon, which arrived in the box Orlando dispatched from my previous abode. A day when my domestic dream became complete. Now I can be finally comfortable here. Naturally I exagerate.

At night, my subconscious produced odd stories about strange people, strange places and even stranger interactions and happenings. I lived in a house with three friendly, young women of the "professional variety" who were a pleasure to interact with, socially. Before that I was in a bar chatting with another woman in a flirty manner. A woman I should not be chatting with in a bar as I well know. Before that I was in... maybe Italy and saw a US colours Tu-22 Backfire Jet, plunge into a tunnel under a highway, after a very improbable, low speed - and by low I mean car in traffic-jam slow - flight and an equally improbable ninety degrees turn. Before that I was swimming in lanes in the sea where people were testing the speed of sound under water (huh?). And finally before that I was in a Toyota Prius with my friend Ian (the irony of Ian being the owner of a Toyota will not be lost to people who know him) driving towards some place which had a lot of starfish shaped intersections getting us constantly higher. Eventually we were out of the car and I had to run for my life hunted by some rather annoying hoodlooms. I jumped off the castle (yes I know, where did it come from?) crinelations and flew to safety - maybe an allusion to my new rock-climbing skills.

So now I am ready for my lecture-writing and still ready for news from the source of my expectant mood these past few days.
On that note back to work