The keys go in this drawer so that they could always be found

(alongside his Fitbit, wallet, and pens),

the shopping bags were stored in these cubbies so all knew where they were

(it was automatic to reach for them when walking out the door),

the sunglasses and reading glasses were set where they were always expected to be

(so that exasperating searches could be avoided),

and the refrigerator and pantry were kept ordered, to minimize searching,

processes meant to reduce the chances of forgetting and losing anything.

It mostly worked.


“Floof Fees”

“Floof Fees” (floofinition) – A floof musical group formed by three brothers in the 1950s, Spike, Mike, and Tyke.

In use: “Recording for eight lives and over nine decades (in floof time), the Floof Fees formed an international following with such hits as “Sleepy Days, Busy Nights”, “Floof Talking”, “Nights on Floofway”, “Stayin’ Aloof”, and “Floof Fever”, which all charted in the top ten on Floofboard’s Top 100.”

The Corner of Concentration

I was just settling into place, unpacking my laptop and stuff at the coffee shop corner community table. (Saint Seata had rewarded me again — thank you, Saint Seata. Now, if the muses will cooperate (yeah, they’re even required when editing and revising.)

A young woman approached. “Are you expecting someone else or saving these seats?”

“No, join me.” I indicate the rest of the table.

“Thank you. I like working at this table.” She’s unpacking her computer as she speaks. “I get a lot of work done here and it has a plug.”

Yeah, people call it a plug, but it’s an outlet, innit? Whatever; she’s young. I reply, “Yes, I notice that people who work in this corner tend to be focused. I call it the corner of concentration.”

“The corner of concentration, I like that,” she says with laughter. “You have a good vibe. I like it.” Before I can do anything more than smile, she says, “I’m a writer.”

“What are you writing?” I ask.

“A cookbook.”

“Oh, cool.”

“It’s for women and will have recipes for women to help them manage their energy for different situations.”

“Sounds like an interesting idea. Good luck.”

“Thanks. What’re you doing in the corner of concentration?”

“I’m a writer, too.”

“Oh, what do you write?”

“I’m working on a novel.”

“Is it fiction?”

Isn’t a novel by definition a work of fiction, I don’t say, because I’m non-confrontational and I don’t want to spoil my good vibe. “Yes.”

“What’s it about?”

“It’s a speculative novel about life and memories.”

“Interesting. I think I want to write a novel someday.”

She goes off to get her coffee. I sit down, take my first sip, and settle in.

Time to write like crazy, one more time.

The Trump Badge Dream

Didn’t know how to label this dream. Had a little bit of multiple things, but one piece finally struck me as the oddest. So…

In the beginning…my wife and I were in townhome. We owned it and that’s where we lived. A lovely place, not anything brilliant, but modern and comfortable. Details past the rooms were the dream took place aren’t known. The dream was mospstly in the living room, beside a dining room and kitchen, a foyer adjacent to the living room, and the balcony, a large covered space accessible through a slider in the living room.

Cats and kittens are present. They’re busy, having fun. I’m sometimes petting them, sometimes feeding them. They’re like background.

My wife and I are talking about fixing our place up, changing some tiles, painting, minor things. We leave the place, going down the ground level (our place is on the third (top) floor). We meet friends on the green and cross to another building. Looking back, we see that, OMG, the gutter system just fell away. We’re horrified.

Only in retrospect do I see a dream paradox; we were living on the top floor; I knew that when I was in our place. Yet, when we see the gutters (drainspouts, etc.), we see them fail on a neighbors’ place above us. Odd, but I didn’t even notice it when it happened in the dream.

The gutter system itself was odd, too, consisting of a number of standard (in the U.S.) aluminum gutters along the roof but also spouts going down the side of the people. We didn’t think anything odd of them in the dream, though; it’s just in retrospect, again, that they don’t really fit what’s standard.

They had fallen away. We were horrified. What are we going to do? We must fix this. There’s also concern about the roof. Roof repairs are needed. A meeting is called to address it. We head that way.

Along the way, we’re ‘informed’ that the people above us are going to take care of the gutter and roof. They see it as their problem. Okay, great, we understand, but shouldn’t we shoulder some of the burden? My wife and I agree that we should, and make plans to approach the neighbor to inform them.

We arrive at the building where the meeting is being held. Going in, I realize that I have a badge, a photo identification, on a lanyard around my neck. Flipping it over, I see that I have a photo of Donald Trump, POTUS, with his name under. I don’t know how I came to have that (but it is a dream, innit?)

Walking into the room, I know that identification is wrong. I wait to be challenged, and it amuses me. I’m so amused, that I joke (in a poor imitation of Trump), “Nobody worry, there’s nothing to worry about, I’ll take care of it, I’m the greatest authority on roofs and gutters in the world.”

I’m holding my Trump badge up as I say that. Someone tells me that roofing and gutter experts are present, but I wave them off, continuing in my Trump impersonation, “They don’t know half of what I know. They know nothing.”

Nobody is getting the joke. I’m being hushed because several women in black uniforms (they look like police officers but lack insignia) are finishing up a conference call on an unrelated matter.

As I stop, watching them and waiting, the dream ends.


Floofminion (floofinition) – An area or place where animals practice self-government.

In use: “The household had multiple pets, but the humans made few rules; the animals’ floofminion had established mores and rules, and a few enforcers monitored behavior. The basic guidance was share the laps, beds, food, sunshine, and treats, and respect one another’s space, and we’ll all be fine.”

Saturday’s Theme Music

Planning the day, thinking about doin’ a little drivin’, I thought of Sniff n’ the Tears.

Don’t know much about this band. I could look them up, but I didn’t. I remember listening to the radio somewhere on a Texas Interstate, coming back from Austin (we lived in on Randolph Air Force Base, just outside of San Antonio) and hearing this song, “Drivers’s Seat” on the radio. And the announcer – it was the weekly countdown – said, “That was Sniff n’ the Tears moving up in the countdown.” My friends and I, hearing that band’s name, started laughing, and then we were coming up with other band names.

Anyway, the song mentions being doin’ a little drivin’ on a Saturday, which I’ll be doing. I’m sure many others will be out there. As they used to say on Hill Street Blues, “Let’s be careful out there.”

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