Thursday, August 21, 2008

My dreams are so unoriginal

I don't really like remembering them, they are always anxious. It's a miracle I've got any teeth left at all.

Usually it's a relief to wake up thinking 'it's all right, I didn't really kill him'. But this time, I just told everybody he'd died. It seemed the only way out of the situation.

But it became unsustainable, because he was actually still very much alive. His mum was all upset, and it was my fault. There were job complications. Tax returns. He wasn't going to stay not-dead.

So he went home, and I went round wearing a bright orange T-shirt which said, Wire-style, MY BAD. *This * morning, it was a relief to wake up thinking 'it's all right, I didn't really not kill him'.

My *real* day went downhill from there. Let's just say I'm almost looking foward to spending the next fortnight in a place where the weather forecast looks like this:


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Blogger Tim said...

Hooray! You're coming up to Lancashire!

11:49 pm  
Blogger Jo said...

No, that's centigrade...

7:52 pm  
Blogger Jo said...

(I daren't look at the Fahrenheit numbers. Oddly, I tend to do hot temperatures in Fahrenheit and cold ones in Centigrade. I wonder why that is.)

7:54 pm  

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