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Dreams: Your Day, the Remix
sword
tiger_spot
Yesterday evening I did two things: First, I finished putting the last coat of paint on the last piece I need to paint before we can assemble the run around the chicken coop. (We still need to make -- and paint! -- a nest box, but for right now the endless painting is, in fact, ended.) Then, chinders, Galen, and I visited friends with a brand-new baby. I made soup, the new parents got pictures of both of them with the baby at the same time, Galen got good practice not bothering cats, and the cats got puffed up and hilarious looking.

That night, chinders dreamed she was pregnant. I dreamed I still had to paint coop parts: a set of bleachers, part of a shed floor which had gotten scuffed and dirty enough it had to redone, some other random bits of wood... and I was out of the blue paint. (But then I discovered a very tall, mostly full can of it! So then I could, in fact, paint the things....)

So that tells you where our brains were over the course of the day.


This evening I played with the dog and reorganized a bit, moving all the shelves in the spice cabinet (except the bottom one) down two spaces, a few things from the pantry to the top of the spice cabinet, the water bottles from the hall closet and garage to the pantry, my backpack from the bottom of the hall closet to the shelf, the vacuum cleaner hose and parts from the hall closet to the laundry room, various things around the laundry room, and a few things to the Goodwill-bound zone. It may not all stay in the new places, but we'll give it a try for a while and see what we think.

I don't mind dreaming about reorganizing as long as everything winds up with a good spot. It's fun when you're not trying to stuff too many awkward things into inappropriately shaped spaces.

Oh, and let me know if you need a food processor. We finally got a replacement part for the one that goes with the blender, so the other one is leaving.
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Tethys is now an only rat
tired
tiger_spot
Thor passed away some time today. It is possible that the heat was a bit much for him; it is possible that it was just time.

Poor wee mite.

(I haven't got much to say about it -- he was old, it wasn't a surprise -- but it seemed like the sort of news that should get its own post.)
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