Nothing

So, about Wednesday, maybe early Thursday, Sheila comes over to my desk.

“Hey, Di, what are your plans this weekend?” She is standing in front of me as I am type-type-typing away, putting together a page or something.

“Nothing,” I reply, as matter-of-factly as I can muster. I decide this might be a good time to get a cup of java, so I get up to head to the conference room.

“Well, I need to do some running ...” Sheila begins, before I do a quick about-face, hold up my hand and stop her before she can issue an invitation.

“No, you don’t understand,” I tell her. “Doing nothing IS my plan for the weekend.”

I smile. Sheila smiles. She understands perfectly.

: )

Odd dreams before waking up this a.m.

First one, we are in London and my girlfriend thinks she might be pregnant (!!), so we go to the doctor. My sister is along for the trip, but we make her go back to the hotel room to wait for us. The doctor proves to be some kind of utter sleazeball, and he ends up getting shot. As does the kind nurse who makes the mistake of giving me her gun.

Next thing I know we are on the run, one the lam, in London.

Second dream, I am trying to get dressed for the memorial service for Meredith. I am planning to wear some kind of skirt (in real life, I swore off skirts and any kind of dress-type attire sometime during the mid-1990s), a teal T-shirt and a vest of some sort ... but I cannot find any of my clothes over at my parents, where I am staying (in actuality, I wore khaki pants and a plaid button-down shirt and got dressed without incident).

I wake up and am quite glad that the service has already taken place!

: )