I hate packing dreams! I don’t think I hate them more than prescient dreams. I’m not sure if I hate them more than processing dreams. Actually, I guess they are sort of a subset of processing dreams. I don’t exactly *hate* shoreline dreams, just that sometimes they scare the bejabbers outta me. Anyway, when I went to sleep last night, there was a prodjekt going to clean out the next door neighbors’ house after the death of our old friend Hans. When I woke up at that batscope hour of the night, somebody was driving off in an automotive vee-hickle and, although the lights were still on, that prodjekt seemed to be ending, for the night anyway. After that, I had packing dreams. I was climbing down a ladder, like the ones on playground slides. I was hauling a whole bunch of cosmic debris with me. It was teensy tinesy stuff. Little rocks and pieces of organic material and I fergit what else. Every rung, I had to carefully scrape all that stuff off of the previous rung and on to the next one without losing any of it. And more seemed to be added with each rung. This stuff was important to the GG for some reason. Who knows what. In the middle of all this a female TV news personality was waiting patiently at her desk at the top of the ladder to interview me. Eventually I came to the realization that it would be a lot easier to haul all of this stuff around if I had a bag! Of course that’s when I woke up. Yeah, I know. I looked out the window. The car next door had returned and the house was dark and silent.

In another hour or so, it was time to get up and rock ‘n’ roll. I was pretty dern organized about this trip but I still just about broke my neck getting out the door. But I made it. Aaannndd… When I got to the Big Mac, the Straits area was roiling with waves and there were high wind warnings.

It looks tropical and it was tropical at 85 degrees or so. The trucks and buses and RVs and things were taking the wind warnings seriously and going 20mph. Bridge patrol pickup trucks with yellow construction arrow signs in the back were everywhere (i.e., SLOW DOWN). I couldn’t really feel the wind that much in the Frog Hopper but, when I stopped at the rest area at the end of the universe, the wind was blowing a gale!

Onward to Sault Ste. Siberia and an afternoon with The Commander. Lunch at Karl’s, an expotition to her house, an expotition to the grokkery store and then we hung out at FV for a while. I “fixed” her printer and took a walk to give her a little break from me. And got absolutely drenched. Rehab appointment, then took her back to FV, went to her house to retrieve some food I’d stashed in her refrigerator, then got gas, then, finally, the moomincabin. Somebody clone me, please!

Walked the beach and then talked myself into taking a swim. It was late afternoon. I was taaarrred. I couldda bagged swimming. I am just me for the evening and only eating leftovers I dragged up from the Planet today. So no big prep job or bartending to do. But then I thought… It is Labor Day weekend. It is hot today. It may not be hot the whole weekend. Last year on Labor Day we had a “hurricane”. (We don’t have hurricanes here but we did have a big storm that buried a bunch of boats and chairs and things). What if I don’t get a chance to swim again? You know I did. A bit of wave jumping but nothing exciting.

Good night. Oh yeah, when I came in things were beeping and chirping like crazy. I took care of the phone messages (beeps). Well, mostly, there’s one from an actual friend of The Comm that I have to re-listen to and probably call back. The chirp? The offending smoke alarm is in the shed for the night. I could not find any batteries. Admittedly, I didn’t look very hard. 9-volt batteries are on my list. Maybe there are some at The Comm’s house. I do know that I am NOT gonna sleep with that chirping!

Dogmomster is expected later tonight. She is stuck driving the northbound I75 SUV Speedway on Friday night in Labor Day traffic. G’night. -Kayak Woman.

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