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next Interesting what doesn't make it into the diary. Whole subplots swallowed by lethargy. I could write about Thanksgiving, but to what end? This morning I slept too long, dreamed that I left the kids at school because my car wasn't running (I stalled out twice Wednesday night), and had to rely on Damien to get me to the school. I didn't make it there until after dark. I left Damien and his girlfriend (er, fiancee now) at a restaurant and walked to the school full of righteous indignation. The girls were on the playground, playing in the blackness, with one of the other mothers there with them, wearing an orange reflective banner across her chest like a crossing guard. Because there was no light, it didn't reflect. I rushed them out of there with barely a mumbled apology. Embarrassed. Afterward, with Duff in tow, we walked along a street full of shops that became less about antiques and more about the occult the further we went. The last shop I remember was seriously creepy, with a supercilious black-robed cleric out front and a vista of ancient blackness within. Then "Wake up, Mama. Wake up!" The dream gives you a good idea of how much I trust Damien. The car apparently needs the fuel filter replaced. Damien knows how to do it, and at my sister's yesterday (my mother and sister share a small apartment) they kept urging me to ask Damien to replace the fuel filter. "I've been trying to get him to clear my drains for two months," I said. I know he simply forgets. But we can't wait on him forever to fix the car; the girls return to school on Monday. So it was determined that the job was easy enough for Duff to do, perhaps with Damien's supervision. Duff, whose father works in the automotive industry, doesn't know much about cars, and neither do I, but my sister knows quite a bit. And Bambi, who manages an auto parts store, was confident he could manage the repair, even rattled off the part number we would need. So that's today's big event. Keep your fingers crossed. prev archive next 0 comments random |