He was due home yesterday, but he aint here

In the dream I was with someone I can't name here. We were sitting together and she made an advance, which delighted me to no end once the surprise wore off. How she made her intentions known, I'll leave to your imagination, but it did the trick. She explained this new dynamic in our relationship by telling me she wanted to see me happy. I did too, and obliged her. About thirty seconds into it, I felt the urge to pee. Better do it now and get it out of the way, I thought (Don't do it!). I had a faint notion she'd be gone when I came back, but I shrugged it off, told her I'd be right back, and headed to the bathroom (Turn back! Turn back! She will be gone if you don't!).

So, just like every other dream with the same plot, I went off to the bathroom, got distracted by all sorts of shit upon my exit, struggled to find my way back to the room and woke up before that could happen. This time, though, I knew I was going to wake up, and tried to hurry my progress, but to no avail. I woke up.

I tried to re-enter the dream, but that's a near impossible feat. I knew it, but tried anyway. You've got to try. I did, however, have another dream, almost as sexy, with her in it. And another a while later. All three were intimate and warm. Why am I dreaming about her?

I felt like tearing through my skin today at work. I don't know if it had to do with being denied sexual pleasure, and cruelly so, in the dream, or if the multitudinous negative aspects of my life had decided I'd gone too long not feeling overwhelmed. I did my best to get through it, but it wasn't easy. It was not easy.

I went for a run after work and made a salad for dinner. I plan on doing some yoga soon. Hopefully, these measures will go a ways in counteracting the blues.

The arbitrary:

I'm listening to madrigals on Pandora. I love madrigals. Bet you didn't know that about me.

Here's some unsolicited advice: Beware the Obama cult of personality. Getting scary out there.

I've managed to see portions of all three Patriots games this season. I find, because of the welter of commercials in any given game, I'm able to get a lot of reading done. One minute I'll be stalking the streets of Machi, Abraham's winter city, and the next I'll be watching Belichek frown on the sidelines.

During my run, I spent some time thinking about Bare Naked Ladies and whether I'd listen to them over Jimmy Buffet, if forced to make the choice. With a shudder, I thought that I would. I hope I never have to make that choice, because either way, I'll be miserable. Shoot, let me reconsider."If I Had A Million Dollars" has got to be worse than anything Jimmy Buffet ever put out. It's just got to.

On a similar note, here are some of my relationship deal breakers:

1. If she's a fan of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Even if she likes it only a little, I can't abide that.

2. Same goes for the aforementioned Buffet and BNL.

3. Doesn't appreciate Herzog or Kurosawa. Okay, that sounds snooty, but I really like those two and if she didnt, well, golly, I don't know what I'd do.

4. Wears crocs. They are so gross. Yeah, I hear they're comfortable. Wear slippers if you want comfort, son! Enough with the crocs, already!

5. Wears those gross ballet slippers more than once a month. I just don't get them. Not flattering. No, sir.

Okay, time to get on the mat.