Predictable

And what's predictable, Dee?

The fact that if I've had a couple of verbose posts in a row the next one will say I've got nothing.

Welcome to the I've got nothing post, boys and girls.

I did have an entertaining dream last night, but as is usual with things like that it loses a bit in translation. I'm willing to give you the quick sketch version, though, since I'm decidedly lacking in topic otherwise.

I woke up in the middle of the night (really. That wasn't part of the dream) and just knew I wouldn't be able to get back to sleep. I'm an insomniac, in case you haven't noticed (and if you haven't, you've been reading the blog with your eyes closed), and it's pretty easy to tell when "up in the middle of the night" is going to turn into "up all freaking night". This was going to be one of those nights for sure. Well, what do you do? You resign yourself to it. It's all you can do.

I laid there for probably an hour or so thinking about... oh, just thinking, really, and then I was up in front of the Inquisition.

Just like that, yes.

I was up in front of the Inquisition, but we're not talking the dreaded Spanish Inquisition here (oh, and this one's for Wheat). This was the Inquisition recast as a sort of laid-back disciplinary hearing. No one was overly concerned about what I may or may not have done wrong; they just wanted to get the facts straight and clear the air. I have a feeling that we were all going out for lunch after everything was worked out, but I woke up before we got that far.

I had no idea that it was a dream until I woke up.

Oh, and trust me to be able to turn even the Inquisition into a mundane board meeting.

And on that note, I suppose I should get back to work. Those paper airplane designs aren't going to look themselves up, you know.




And yes, I do get paid to look up paper airplane designs. Occasionally, that is. Not all the time.

That would be silly.