Subfloofidant (floofinition) – Placed or occupying a lower class or rank, or considered an inferior position to an animal, particularly a pet.

In use: “Samantha always felt she was subfloofidant to her husband’s dogs — he had two — but he’d had them before he’d ever met her, but then he had to go away on business, and suddenly she and the dogs were having a love affair, and, well, the dynamics were pretty different after he came back, with him now living as the subfloofidant one.”

Tuesday’s Theme Music

Tuesday has settled into the spring groove. A light breeze frolics. Lawns and trees vibrate with greens and flowers add rainbow splashes. A dusting of high white clouds flavor the blue sky. Sunshine adorns every corner. The temperature is 62 F and we expect 81 F. Darkness will come after sunset at 8:34 this evening while sunset let the sun’s influence in beginning at 5:42 this morning. So it goes this May 24, 2022. The back door is open, bees dance and zip around, and the house felines are pleased.

The cats are responsible for today’s music. Both insisted on heading out around eleven thirty-ish last night, prompting me to say, “Okay, go dance the night away. Bang on the door when you want back in.” I said that even though I’d already created a mental note to let them in a few hours. Fast as you can say van Halen, the neurons brought out their 1979 song, “Dance the Night Away”. I’m always a little surprised that the group wrote it. It seems like, even feels like it could’ve been a cover of a song that already existed. It’s more mellow and light-hearted than the majority of van Halen offerings.

Stay positive, test negative, etc. I’m here for the coffee. Got any left? Here’s the tune. Cheers

The House Price Dream

A place was being sold, some sort of home. I’m not sure if it was a house, townhouse, condominium, etc. People were discussing how to price. Two young, grinning boys, brothers, were present, listening, watching me as this was being debated. I didn’t know anyone there or why I was present. Everyone wanted to put the place on the market at a low-ball price because it had been the scene of horrific crimes which the boys did.

I advocated, “No, don’t make it a low price, make it a high price. There’s been a lot of notoriety about what the boys did. It’s well-publicized. Don’t try to hide it. Take advantage of it being a famous place to push the price up.”

More debate followed. I claimed, “People who are aware of the crime who are turned off by it aren’t going to come anyway. So the low price doesn’t affect them. People interested in the crime will come, and if they’re real interested, they’re going to try to buy. Don’t make it easy on them. This is a jewel; you don’t low ball a jewel.”

They decided that made sense. I had nothing to do with the house, other than knowing its history and arguing for a high price. As we finished up and I left the place, my sister-in-law arrived. She said she was going to bid on the place. That surprised me. I asked, “Really?”

She answered. “Sure. Seems like it’d be fun.”

Dream end.

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