9:45 am. I'm inspired (and still mostly asleep). I've thought of a paragraph I have to write down before it's gone. I don't know if I'll use it in an entry or the notify list (or at all), but I don't remember dreams often and I don't want to lose this one. Here's what I wrote:
I had that old dream where it's Monday morning and I've forgotten to do my homework. I'm in a panic, rushing around trying to get my books and papers together and find a place to work on it. (No backpack. I'm too old to have carried a backpack. Yes, there was a time before backpacks.) The dream is all very silly because (a) I'm no longer in school, and (2) I don't have any homework. Besides, if I'd had all weekend, I would have done it. Right?
There you go, that's it. At 9:52 I get up and turn on the computer so I can record this gem. Once I do, it doesn't seem like a very noble reason to get out of bed. Remembering the dream wasn't the first time I woke up this morning, just the first time I looked at the clock. Earlier I'd heard the wind and rain, which had not made me want to get up. I thought I'd have another free day with no weather to deal with.
10:05 am. I'm staying up, so I put on some coffee and turn on a football game. I have a choice of eight or nine games, and I pick the one between the two worst teams available because it's the one that means the most to me in the pool. I tune in just in time to see the Ravens score a touchdown. Yay! But I'm not going to spend the next ten hours watching football, even though I have that option.
Before I can turn it off, though, the Bengals run back the kickoff for a touchdown to tie the score. I'm still not going to spend three hours watching this game.
1:35 pm. I'm feeling quite satisfied with myself because I spent fifteen minutes doing paperwork. I haven't had the television on all day, though. I've puttered around the house and climbed into the loft to read for awhile. Never let it be said that I don't take dream warnings seriously.
I've been outside once, to take the root beer bottles that were under the sink out to the recycle bin in the garage. It's turned into a beautiful day, with some interesting clouds but no rain or wind since this morning. It's almost enough to tempt me to work in the yard, but it's still wet out there and I'd have to get all dirty and besides, it's Sunday. Whatever that means.
2:15 pm. My yard is full of mockingbirds, and I mean full. I've never seen that many of them at one time. They don't usually travel in flocks of five or six, but I'm seeing it with my own eyes. And whap! Just that quickly, they all fly off together. Maybe it has something to do with the weather, or the time of year.
2:30 pm. A pair of crested gray warblers are flitting around the garden. I don't know what they're called and can't find them in my field guide. They have crests, they're gray, and they warble.
David just called on his way back from the lake to check on the morning football scores. He groaned after he heard a few of them, so I think he's probably doing worse in this week's pool than I am. (Actually, I'm doing okay. I picked six out of seven winners in the early games. One other game was a tie, so nobody gets credit for that one.)
5:05 pm. It's not quite dark, but too dark to read, too cold to work outside. The sky is suffused with an incandescent glow. I don't think it's World War III (I believe that isn't on the schedule until next month), but if I'm not mistaken it's a sign that tomorrow's going to be a brighter day. Hey hey.
7:00 pm. I'm watching "TV's Top Forty Theme Songs" on TV Land. This is the history of my whole life, and I get a little chill with each one they play. Some of them bring tears, like "Where Everybody Knows Your Name," from Cheers. Did I ever mention I once saw Sonny Curtis live in concert? He wrote "Love Is All Around," from— well, you know what it's from. He also played with Buddy Holly and wrote "I Fought the Law." And the law won.
8:30 pm. The last football game just ended. I picked three of the five late games right, including the 49ers' win over the Chiefs. I always pick the 49ers, because they're the local team. It's a good thing I don't live in Detroit or Cincinnati, I guess. (Or Chicago. Sorry, Bears fans.)