Fairies

“What’s this?” I asked myself, speaking only in my mind.

I looked around. Nobody was in sight, but on my desk was an unexpected fresh cup of steaming coffee.

The coffee fairy had been by, I realized.

I’m very fond of fairies. Besides the coffee fairy, the doughnut, cookie, and brownie fairies have visited me.

Fairies do have a dark side. Just this morning some feline fairy left a gift on my shower mat. They also left another gift on the bathroom rug. It had to be a fairy, because my floofs were all bland innocence and whiskers.

Some fairies have never visited me, despite my hopes, like the lottery fairy (“You have to have a ticket!”), but the writing fairy often comes, streaming words through me. The words often make sense, too. Well, sometimes.

Time to write edit like crazy at least one more time, and see what the fairies have for me.

 

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Dipping into Wang Chung today. I featured “Dance Hall Days” once. This time I’m going with a favorite walking song, “Everybody Have Fun Tonight” (1986), which I often call, “Everybody Wang Chung Tonight” because of that line in the song. It’s an excellent walking song when I’m feeling optimistic or jubilant.

As an aside, a co-worker at the time hated this song. A major fan of Ratt, Judas Priest, and Rush, he felt music by groups like Wang Chung used too much techno to be true music.

Aide-de-Floof

Aide-de-Floof (floofinition) – a person who assists housepets by giving them their medicine, feeding them, cleaning up after them, and playing with them.

In use: “His position as aide-de-floof sometimes required him to interrupt his sleep at four in the morning to let a cat into the house, or feed one of them, which, naturally, meant that they would all be fed.”

Three Brief Dreams, One Night

The first dream was simple and peculiar. I was with male friends from different times of my life, but we were all young adults, regardless of how old I was or they were when I knew them. I think there were a dozen of us. All were people I haven’t seen in years. Some of them have died.

We were playing a game in the living that required us to bounce off the walls. I was watching, though, trying to remember the game’s name and the rules. One friend went into the kitchen. I went after him to ask questions, but the dream was interrupted, and that’s where it stopped.

My second dream was about land, property, and building. My wife and I had bought some property. The deal was set in motion, but was incomplete.

Visiting our property prior to taking possession, a sort of wooded country place of several acres and buildings, we encountered a group of young teenagers with a pile of remotes. They were taking turns hurling remotes at trees and rocks to break the remotes, an activity that fed giddy laughter. Talking to them about it, a smiling girl said that her father encouraged them to break the remotes like this to relieve stress and tension. Feeling that we could use a release, my wife and I threw some remotes and concluded, it is a great way to relieve stress. Meanwhile, I wondered how they’d collected so many remotes.

We went into a small house that was part of our new property. A balding, stocky man and several teenagers were busy working on it inside. An old building with white walls, tall, traditional windows made it a light and airy place. I somehow know that the layout was different than it had been. The man working on the place confirmed it, explaining what had been where and how they’d been moved. As he talked, I said, “That’s right, you’re the original building.” He confirmed that, but I knew that he wasn’t the person who sold us the property. He confirmed that, too, telling me that he’d been hired.

Then I remembered his name was Was, but then questioned myself on the spelling. Was it Was, Waas, or Wass?

In the third dream, I was flying in an aircraft. It seemed like it was an advanced technology. It lacked wings and was quietly traveling fast and high above a planet.

I thought the planet was Earth, but I wasn’t sure, and was collecting details in search of verification. A bright yellow-white sun shone in a blue sky. Only a few sketchy, high cirrus clouds marred the sky’s impeccable blue. The ground below was mostly sandy brown and flat with green and dark blue patches that sometimes looked black. I took the dark blue/black patches to be lakes or puddles. A haze-filled horizon seemed to veil mountains.

I tried understanding which way we were traveling, and the sun’s path, as a way to verify it was Earth. Therein was an interesting duality. I was in the dream with friends (although they’re nobody that I know from this life), discussing our plans (we were on a mission to find other people), but I was also aware that I was in the dream and was trying to understand the dream.

That’s where it ended.

The Amazing POS That’s the Free Mail Google offers

Warning: this snarky rant has some profanity.

Well, I should have known.

I’d been using Gmail for years. It started sliding down hill a few years ago. To save it, I went to Inbox.

Mistake.

Four years later, and a year of PERSONAL frustration for me, frustration that included random shifting of mail into different places. WaPo’s news letter will be in one place on one day, somewhere else the next.

Delete an email? Not under this POS. Delete may work. It might not. The emails show up again and again, driving me crazy as I remembered already reading that mail and deleting it, sometimes THREE TIMES IN ONE DAY.

Earlier this year, Google announced they’re dropping Inbox. Does that mean they fucking improved Gmail?

Not fucking likely.

Being Google, it still works like crap. However, they’ve managed to add several infuriating features. One particularly pisses me off. Each time I delete an email or change a tab — hell, anytime I do anything in Gmail, a small offer comes up:

Gmail Desktop

 

Nothing stops this zombie question. Can’t be turned off. It just asks me again, and again. Hide? Fat fucking chance. It comes right back up after I do something. Click the X? No, that shit doesn’t help, either. Yes, it offers a brief respite, but nothing more. It’s always there, obsequiously asking me if I want to use their fucking feature.

As Rake would say, “Oh, fuckity fuck, fuck.”

INGIT

INGIT (sometimes spelled as INGIFT) (floofinition) – floof acronym that means “I’m not going in there,” or alternatively, “I’m not going in fuckin’ there.” INGIFT is often used to make a more strenuous point.

In use: “Seeing the bathtub of water, the dog barked, “INGIT!” Spinning away, he raced to the closet to hide.”

Floofoween

Floofoween (floofinition) – annual holiday when people dress up their pets and request tricks in exchange for treats. It often doesn’t go well.

In use: “Having dressed his black cat in a devil’s outfit for Floofoween, Teddy kept trying to coax the cat into doing tricks in exchange for treats, but he set the bag of treats down, and Sebastian the cat seized it with its teeth and dashed into another room and under the bed with his prize.”

Monday’s Theme Music

This song started streaming into my head this morning. Part of my Bay Area experience, when I lived at Moffett, Mountain View, or Half Moon Bay, this song was on repeat for a while for my daily commute.

I enjoy its soft beginning:

Drivin’ faster in my car
Falling farther, from just what we are
Smoke a cigarette, and lie some more, these conversations kill
Falling faster in my car
Time to take her home, her dizzy head is conscience laden

Read more: Stone Temple Pilots – Big Empty Lyrics | MetroLyrics

Yes, “Big Empty”, STP, 19whatever.

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