Greetings, my fellow port swillers!
Ol’ Robbo has been down the past couple days with a bout of the ‘flu. This has become a sort of annual drama here at Port Swiller Manor. First, Mrs. R badgers me about getting a flu shot. I resist because I don’t like shots. Then, when I get the ‘flu, instead of nursing me back to health she badgers me even more about why I didn’t listen to her in the first place.
Well, it may or may not be because of the ‘flu, but ol’ Robbo had one of his extremely rare dream-within-a-dream specials last night. (I can only recall having maybe two or three of these before.) In the first part, I dreamt we had some additions built on to Port Swiller Manor. When we came to view the work, we discovered that the contractor had gone far, far beyond what we were expecting. I found myself standing in a vast room of cherry wood floors, enormous bookcases, a ceiling far overheard, deep windows and a marble fireplace at one end. Mrs. R and I were both pleased and puzzled and took the attitude that, so long as we weren’t actually paying more money than we had agreed to, then we wouldn’t complain about the result.
Then I “woke up” and found myself in what I thought was my real house. It was cramped and low and made of plywood and bare sheetrock. As I looked about, I saw the shoddiness of the “real” job the contractors did: Everything out of plumb, cracks and crevasses everywhere and an ominous bowing in the floor. Indeed, even as I watched, a sofa suddenly collapsed down through said floor, punching another hole in the floor immediately beneath and eventually crashing into the basement.
And with that, I finally really woke up.
Then I dreamt that I found out the Middle Gel was dating a 20 y.o. guy. When I confronted her about it, she tried to talk me round, showing me a picture of him on her cell phone. He looked a total brute. I told her to break it off immediately and she went away in tears. Somehow or other, I then became aware that she had snuck off with said fellah to some kind of SciFy convention. I hurried there and found myself running in endless circles between a large auditorium and a foyer crammed with people in weird costumes milling about, standing in long lines and interviewing each other, but I couldn’t find her anywhere.
What do you think? Too much Nyquil?