Struggling

It's 5:00 AM on a Sunday Morning. Some slushy snow outside indicates a third more or less minor storm has passed in just less than a week. Heart is coming back toward normal rhythm and rate after being wild at rising .... just wrote down a nondescript dream about being on an army base in the late 1960's or early 1970's. For some reason, I knew that this store (or whatever went on behind this counter) was a good place to have one of my 1950's Eversharp pens refitted with a new bladder (the bladder is the rubber reservoir that holds the ink .... arranged by squeezing a lever in the barrel). The old barrel came apart pretty easily ... no tear in this bladder! ... though odd ... and,yes, for some reason it was time to change that bladder.  Handed it over and someone said that it might be hard to fit ... 60 year old fountain pen .... couldn't guarantee a finish time/delivery date. Woke up to pee. Guess that makes sense? but who is Eversharp? Dunno.

Been having strange dreams. During a Siesta on Friday with M ... awaiting the arrival of afternoon visitors and visiting grandchildren, later .... In the dream, M and I were looking to figure out which room would be available and best for us ... entering and exiting at least one.  I or we were at a conference and everyone was to stay in their own room. No significaant commerce with others. I guess it got worked out ... next thing I knew, I was driving slumped over to the left in a left-hand-steering car ... slumped over, exhausted ... too tired to pull myself up ... too tired to stay up enough to see where I was going .... scene faded out ... some fear I coukd crash.

Woke up (and did, indeed, arise) to find GuntherDog looking at me pathetically ... "Yoh, Amigo ... this is not small town Central America or Mediterranean village ... get up and work, you bum ... My life depends on it." (I actually thought he called me something less friendly than 'Amigo').

I know dogs don't really talk ... still ... the look on his face spoke volumes. 

Neither dreams were accompanied by anxiety ... maybe resignation ... parts wear out like my cardiac rhythm-maker ... the thing that gives the right ba-bomp .... ba-bomp .... ba-bomp ... I think it's still called a sinus-bloc(k) .... .... oh! and my back .... my aching back that my yound Doc manipulated the day before ... Guess he found the spot that hurts. A week, today, M will have tolerated me in a state called matrimony (really!? one Mother ... Mater ... monium) for 48 years. 

I think jokes about anniversay gifts lose their tonus after a number of years. 

                                M to H: What you gonna get me for our anniversary.

                                              H to M: What kind of sex shall we have.

Jokes get stale and worse! They begin to smell like lost cucumbers in the back of the fridge, like potatoes giving off poisonous gasses in their Winter lair.

Thought of getting her a Bernese Mountain Dog ... thought better of it.

I could box myself in a big cake? jump out like Jack! Ah! Jumpin' Jack Flas has lost some. Any ideas welcome? 

'Snow, beautiful snow ... I'm anxious to shovel some' was not exactly the lyric from Oliver on Broadway and it just ain't true. 

Geez, my back hurts. There's a Holiday party at an organization to which I belong .... long ride for an old crippled guy. Maybe I'll take A siesta and try to get back with M to that conference center,

That having been said? It is quite beautiful outside ... GuntherDog likes it as long as it's not raining.

Go, Gunther!