(first: I'm so sorry about the whole "oh, I keep forgetting to blog" thing... I didn't realize how much having a job that meant leaving the house would impact me. I'm REALLY trying to get better.)
(second: I didn't gave Patrick Stewart a hug. He actually gave me a hug.)
(third: That didn't happen either. Well, it sort of did.)
(fourth: there isn't a fourth, I was just on a roll.)
So last night, I had a dream that I came home from my office job in Boston ...
(fifth: I don't have a job in Boston.)
(sixth: can I just mention here that I looked GOOD? I looked good the way people who work in offices on TV look good. Well, not "The Office" because the people on that tend to look like people who work in an actual office, not fancy Hollywood ideas of offices. I looked Hollywood Office good. This isn't really important, but since I'm currently dressed like a really bad version of actual office? I just want to get a shout out for looking good in my dream.)
... and when I pulled up to my house in my fancy car...
(seventh: I actually have no desire to own a fancy car. Also, I'm so not conversant with fancy cars that the badging on my fancy car just said "Fancy" as though my subconscious was all, "Screw it, I put all of my work into making sure you were wearing Gucci shoes and have nothing left for an automobile.)
...I noticed that there were people in the pool. So I put down my briefcase and the printer I was carrying ...
(eighth: I think the printer was my brain's way of mentioning, casually, "Hey, remember when you used to write that thing on the internet? You should get back to that" before it went for the not so subtle hints.)
... and I went to join them. Only one of the people was in the pool -- the other two were sitting on the deck, drinking beverages.
The one in the pool was Lynda Carter. You know, Wonder Woman? Hanging out on fun noodles in my pool. This was a little weird to me because I didn't know her, but it seemed like she was there with the other two people, who I did clearly know: Patrick Stewart and my friend Stephanie.
(ninth: OMG PATRICK STEWART?!)
And Patrick said, "Have you met Lynda?" as though it was perfectly normal for him to bring people to my house, which maybe in that alternate reality it was, I don't know, and Stephanie just smiled like, "I can't believe you haven't met Lynda yet."
"No," I said, and I extended my hand.
"I love your work," Lynda said.
(tenth: I had no idea what she was talking about, except that I knew that it paid me well enough to drive the Fancy car and look nice. And I carried a printer around.)
"Thanks," I said.
I took off my coat.
(eleventh: despite the fact that it was somehow warm enough to be in the pool, I was wearing a heavy leather coat. Whatever, I LOOKED GOOD.)
I also took off my sunglasses and put on my regular glasses.
(twelveth: EVEN IN MY DREAMS MY CONTACTS SUCK.)
"Great," Patrick said. "Now I can hug you." And he did.
(thirteenth: Patrick Stewart is an excellent hugger. In case you were wondering.)
And he whispered in my ear, "How come you haven't been writing?"
(fourteenth: Patrick Stewart also gives an excellent guilt trip.)
(fifteenth: Um. Yeah. So this one's for Patrick Stewart. And for you, loyal Blog Readers!)