The Red Shot Dream

This was such a persistently powerful dream last night. I awoke from it twice in befuddlement, sure that I’d forgotten to do something that had to do with my shots. When was I supposed to take them? There was a sequence. But wait —

In the dream, only women were originally receiving the shots. They were happy about it. We were all walking around outside, following neat sidewalks in sunshine. The shots were self-injected. A red powder in a miniature Erlenmeyer flask, I don’t know what it combatted. The injections needed to be given in a specific time sequence that was established by people’s DNA, age, and where they lived. As the women went about, happily self-injecting, I joined a hue: “Why aren’t men being injected?” The problem, whatever it was, affected everyone. It didn’t make sense for half of the population to get it and not the other half.

The powers agreed and decreed everyone should receive the shots. I was given my flasks of powder and told my injection schedule.

That’s when I awoke. Sitting up, I peered about for my flasks and tried remembering my schedule. When was I supposed to give myself the next injection? In three hours? What time would that be?

As I realized all that was a dream, I calmed and thought of the dream, then went back to sleep. And — boom — shortly thereafter, I was awake and thinking, what was I supposed to do? Where are my injections?

Tuesday’s Theme Music

The snow made it! Woo-hoo!

Shortly after posting yesterday’s theme music, light snow showers began. A few degrees were sliced off and we ping-ponged between sleet and snow for several hours. As the temperature shimmied down to 33 F, fat flakes faithfully fell, lining the world with white. Then the temperature shimmied back up, the snow stopped, and the sidewalks and streets cleared but remained on everything else. Then heavier snow began and continued through the night. We only achieved one to three inches locally, which, great. It’s up in the Sierras and Cascades where we need it. Reports are that it fell heavy there.

A little sigh of relief.

Today is Tuesday, 2/22/2022. Our temperature is now 31. Thin snow flurries fall in the front of the house; sunshine peeks through waning clouds on the house’s backside. The high temperature is expected to be 43 with lows dipping to 12 to 23 degrees, depending on where you are. My house will likely experience twenty-five. Sunrise was at 6:57 this morning and sunset will be at 5:52 this evening.

The snow affected the royal clowder. Sick cat chilled on his space and Tucker assumed his position beside me per usual. Papi, the ginger wonder, usually likes being the squeeze box, going in and out and in and out and in and out and in and out. Not so last night. Three times in and out, then done. I had a great night of rest.

I have a 1976 Gordon Lightfoot song in the morning mental music stream, “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald”. Wrecks and accidents fascinate me, mostly because I’m intrigued by the backstories, not the mayhem. While researching the Soviet space program yesterday (I’m reading “The Apollo Murders”), I became sidetracked on an accident website. Out of that, my neurons began humming the Lightfoot song. So, here we are.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the vax and boosters when you can. BTW, the clouds have broken and scattered. It’s now blue skies and sunshine out the front window, and the temperature is up to — wait a sec, please.

“What’s that, coffee? You want me to come and drink you? Okay, I’ll be right there.”

Gotta go. Here’s the music. Cheers

Monday’s Theme Music

Today is February 21, 2022. Happy ___. Yes, today is a holiday in the U.S. There are fifteen different official names for this holiday in use in the United States. It started as Washington’s Birthday but grew to encompass all POTUS. But is that Presidents’, President’s, or Presidents? That’s one of the rubs. For Federal gov. use, it’s Washington’s Birthday. Advertising is the prompt behind the move to the variations of President.

Of course, it’s a Monday, part of the holidays observed on Monday in the U.S. instead of the day on which it should actually be, February 22 on the Gregorian calendar, which also is not Washington’s birthday, because the British Empire used the Julian calendar when Washington was born and the United States wasn’t yet a country.

We had a sprinkle of snow on the land this morning when the sun’s light sluiced into the textured gray sky at 6:59 AM. It’s 34 degrees F. feels and smells like winter outside (and feels like 28 degrees, they claim). The high will be 42 F before sunfall begins taking the temperature back down at 5:51 PM. Be prepared for rain and snow showers. If you hit the road and plan to go more than twenty miles up the Interstate in either direction, be ready for serious winter.

Today’s song was going on in my morning mental music stream when I officially awoke. It may be related to a forgotten dream. “Sweet Hitch-hiker” by CCR is certainly a remnant of my unforgotten youth. The song was released in 1971. I was fifteen. My three primary modes of transpo was walking, biking, and hitch-hiking. I wasn’t the sweet hitchhiker of people’s the singer’s dreams, though, just another hairy lad popping into puberty. Thumbing a ride was already on the wan because crazies were emerging, either drivers eager to do shit unto you, or hitchhikers out for blood. Yes, times were changing.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the vax and boosters when you can. I’m to the kit for a cup. Cheers

Another DIY Success

We have a single handle Moen faucet. We bought the house new back in 2006. This week, the handle began going wonky on us. It was growing stiffer to turn and then added a squeaking noise. A little net sleuthing and I identified our model, homed in on the problem, found a step-by-step video, and ordered the “Moen 93980 Replacement Handle Mechanism Kit for One-Handle Kitchen Faucet Repairs” kit from Amazon for just less than $23. It was supposed to arrive Monday but came today.

I’m not a DIYer by nature. Poor mechanical skills, you know? Other than fixing cars and computers (and painting the house rooms), I have little to no DIY experience except what I’ve gleaned from learning how do to things in this house. That includes installing a new central vac unit to replace the dead unit a decade ago, swapping out control modules on the air conditioner about four years ago, replacing the garbage disposal a few years ago, fixing the microwave a few months ago, and then replacing the master sink drain stem in December. I don’t think I could have done any of these things except for the first two without the net. For the air conditioner repair, the repair guy showed me how he fixed it a few years before. I took notes so that when the time came, because he warned me that it would fail, and it was a common, recurring failure, I knew what to do. For the central vac unit, it was straightforward as replacing a car battery. So I watched the Moen repair video again, sucked in a deep breath, and went at it.

Success! I’ll drink to that. The question is, coffee, beer, or wine?

Counterfloof

Counterfloof (floofinition) – 1. Animal which appears to be another animal.

In use: “Sometimes at night, counterfloofs — skunks which resembled their big black and white cat — caused confusion and consternation, although calamity was ultimately avoided.”

2. Animal, especially pets, who like to sit on kitchen, restaurant, or bar counters.

In use: “The bird was the worse counterfloof, but seeing the bird on the counter always made the cat think it was okay for her to be a counterfloof, too, which always upset the dog and provoked a barkstorm, because he knew it wasn’t okay for them to be counterfloofs and he hated it when the cat flouted the rules.”

3. Actions taken to mitigate animal influence or divert animal attention or activity.

In use: “Often, as a counterfloof, he surrendered to giving his pets treats so they’d be unaware that the carrier was being prepared to take them to the vet.”

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