Lost Day

Sorry for the lack of content yesterday. You can blame it on whoever put my head in a vise and filled the rest of my joints with coarse sand.

Meds were applied resulting in fractured dreams.  You know, when the evil priestess kidnaps you and drags you back to her fortress, you expect her dungeon to be a little more foreboding than your average church basement complete with casserole and dude in the denim apron.

Lions and Kittens and Delivery! Oh My!

As previously mentioned, I’ve been having odd dreams lately.  Last night was no exception.

EvylRobot and I had seen a commercial for a new food delivery place that had opened up in town.  (Which is a neat trick since we don’t actually watch television.) The commercial was catchy and corny and most of all, memorable.  Particularly the tag line, “A mountain lion with every order!” Said cheerfully by the grinning spokesperson.

It was just so ridiculous that we had to check this place out. Hey, it pays to be creative. So I made the phone call and placed our order. Predictably, in the same tone as you would expect the ‘would you like fries with that’ line, the operator said, “And would you like the mountain lion with that?”

“Hell yes I want my mountain lion!” *giggle* And then I hung up the phone.

“That’s got to be one of the weirder promotions out there,” commented Evyl.

“I know, right?”

A few minutes later, the doorbell rang. I excitedly opened the door.

There, on my front porch, was the pimply faced delivery boy with the expected white bags and a large crate. They are really taking this gag to the limits! I handed over the money instructing the kid to keep the change.  He grinned and thanked me as he handed over the food. He then popped the latch on the crate and into my entry hall walked…

A rather perturbed looking mountain lion. You’d be perturbed too if you were the promotional item for a combo meal.

“Nice kitty”

He gave me that look that only cats and teenagers can give and sauntered over to the couch where he promptly curled up in my spot. (Yes, I have a spot. No, I am not Sheldon-esque attached.) So I did the only reasonable thing I could think of, I sat down beside him and scratched him behind the ears.  My giant house-cats like that, after all. He lifted his head, grunted, and laid his head in my lap. It was actually kind of cute.

Evyl came around the corner, apparently, having missed the delivery boy. “Um, honey? There’s a mountain lion on the couch.”

“Yep.”

“Well. That’s unexpected.”

“We did order him.”

“You ordered him, but I didn’t expect they would actually bring one.”

“And yet, here he is.”

After discussing what to do with our new house guest, we decided that cougars probably do not make great house cats and ushered him out the back door.

Where he promptly ate the neighbor’s kitten that had been using my flower bed as its own personal litter box.  I have mixed feelings about this. No one really wants to see/hear a kitten being devoured, but it was pooping in my strawberries.

Dreams like this lead to odd morning conversations with pre-caffeinated Jen as well.

Jen: So I dreamed we had a mountain lion

ER: Huh.  That’s interesting

Jen: It came with my combo meal

ER: That’s a helluva Happy Meal prize

Jen: It was delivery

ER: Did they bring it on a leash?

Jen: Crate. Which they opened on the front porch.

ER: Of course.

I think he’s getting used to the meanderings of my unconscious mind.

 

 

Did Someone Get The Tag

of that truck that hit me?  At least, I assume it was a truck.  I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.

But I’m occupying my cubicle anyway. Instead of pulling a repeat of yesterday and occupying my couch.  I don’t seem to be feverish today, there are plenty of things I share with coworkers, but I generally try to keep the infectious things to myself.  The coworkers seem to appreciate that.

So yesterday was spent poking around on the internet and building something new.  Wanna see*?

The day was capped off by cleaning my son’s barf off his face.  So really, a lovely day.

This morning I woke up from weird fevered dreams where I really wanted to leave the party but I couldn’t find my shoes. And then I couldn’t leave anyway because the monsters were hosting a costume party in the foyer. My mother in law kept emerging from some magical room wearing different shoes.  She suggested I could find something there since my shoes were missing.  When I went into the room, there were no shoes.  Later several men left to do some carnival ride thing that was set up at the lake across the street.  They came back naked and red. It was not sexy. Dear subconscious, if you are going to insert naked people into my dreams, I’d prefer if they were hot.  Just saying.

And somewhere in the middle, it seems Emerson has gotten political again. Whatever am I going to do with him?

*Please do and let me know what you think.  

Odd Dreams-Firearm Malfunctions

So the other night, I dreamed that hubby and I were awakened by the beam of a searchlight shining through the bedroom window.  Upon further investigation, it appeared that there was some kind of manhunt going on the neighborhood.  There were badged ninjas and a couple helicopters scouring this little patch of suburb.  So we did what any reasonable person would do-we got dressed, armed, and topped up our shotguns.  No, we didn’t go join the hunt.  We just wanted to be prepared in case said evil-doer decided the sliding glass door on the back of our house was awfully inviting compared to the welcoming party that was seeking him out.  Besides, there was far too much activity to sleep through anyway.

So there we sat.  And waited.  Eventually the sound faded away and the decision was made to attempt to claim a few precious hours of sleep before the sun came up.  We figured evil dude must have been picked up anyway but double checked the doors just for good measure.

Morning came at its usual time, far too soon after dosing off.  We lamented the lack of sleep but decided there was too much to be done to stay in bed.  Sufficient amounts of coffee were consumed, and we went about our business.

A friend from work was meeting me at the house so we could walk to some class that we were taking together.  (This is a friend that I’ve never really hung out with outside of work.  Not that I wouldn’t; we just haven’t.  I’ve no idea what kind of class we had signed up to take or why we were planning to walk there.)  And just in case the cavalry hadn’t picked up our choirboy from the night before, I threw my trusty snubbie in my pocket as a back-up to the FN on my belt. (I can only assume this class was not being held at one of the local schools where they have the magical firearms force-fields.)

My friend arrived right on time, and we set out for class.  It was a lovely day so we decided to detour through the woods (that don’t really exist) behind my house.  You know, because evil dude’s would never be hiding in the woods had they been able to give the ninjas the slip.

You see it coming, right?

Of course evil dude is holed up in a hollowed out tree and can’t over come the urge to accost a couple of ladies walking in the woods.  I hear Tom Givens’ voice in my head. “ONE!”  My left hand plants on my chest, my right takes a firing grip on my pistol.  “TWO!” I clear leather. Before I’ve made a conscious effort, I’m in a good two handed grip with the gun extended into my line of sight.

I should have a perfect sight picture.

I should be putting 2 rounds of .45 into dude right now.

Except, there are no sights.  I’m looking straight down the frame.  I can see the gleaming brass of the top round in the magazine.

Oh shit!  My slide is still in my holster!  I’d apparently left the take-down lever flipped down.

I slam it back into the holster hoping everything lines up. Of course this just happens to be the moment dude’s revolver comes into view.  It’s a K-frame 38 Special.  I can’t tell whether it’s an M&P or a Model 10.  And for some reason, that actually mattered to me in the dream.

He cocks the hammer. (Dude, that’s a double action.  So unnecessary.)

I use my left hand to stabilize my slide while drawing the FN again. I don’t know why I didn’t just grab my snub, but the thought didn’t even cross my mind.

He pulls the trigger.

And the barrel falls off his gun.

Meanwhile I have successfully reassembled my gun and flipped the lever back up.  I proceed to shoot dude, who is still pointing the barrel-less revolver, until he falls down.  After retrieving the broken revolver (Ah!  Model 10, made in Brazil!), my friend and I head on our way.

Not even a phone call to let anyone know that their wayward fugitive was likely approaching room temperature, but we made it to class on time.  And then I woke up.

I suppose I am glad that my subconscious mind didn’t clam up and panic in the face of catastrophic failure, but now I am compulsively checking my take-down lever before holstering my gun.