It's Saturday. I'm not sure if I'm supposed to blog on Saturday. It's not like I plan to get any writing done today. I have Zumba, and then I have to clean the kitchen so we can BBQ chicken. I always have to clean the kitchen in the morning because of the teenager who is a slob and for the life of him can't keep himself from leaving dishes in the sink.
But I can't blame it all on him. I didn't do dishes at all yesterday, so they stacked up there on the counter over the dishwasher and in the sink. Because, let's face it, no one else can empty the dishwasher without being asked to do it. It's like, my job.
I had a dream last night that there were about eight big men out on our lawn finishing up some kind of work for us. I drove down the driveway, head first, in something of a tiny invisible car. The guys liked my car though. They parted their crowd for me to pass (because apparently now they were in the street at the edge of the driveway. And then I realized I forgot my purse and had to go back. And all the men were going inside too, for water and a bit of clean up I gues.
Some of them followed me in the kitchen door and when I opened it, there were cats. One of them was my old cat Tiger who died last year. But I was calling her by another name, until my brain registered that it was Tiger and then I picked her up and called her Tiger.
Very strange dream. I do not recall if there were dishes in the sink.