It was an odd morning. Thanks to a 21mg nicotine patch worn around the clock sleep has been, well, interesting. More than two weeks of active dreams, fitful sleep, and lots of staring at the ceiling in the wee hours of the night have left me feeling more than a little washed-out and punchy.
But the dreams have been cool, too. Last nights’ starred my old boss (now happily chugging away at a new gig) who gave me my end of year review using riddles and a rather odd mind-map. Knowing the man, I’m certain that if it was actually his company that kind of review wouldn’t be entirely out of the question.
He then invited me to watch then President-elect Obama’s inaugural ceremony and we stepped out of an office into a basketball gym and then into a pretty day. Not sure what that last bit was about – I can’t dribble to save my life – but I woke up singing/whispering, “Yes. We. Can.”
I was pretty excited about today, is what I’m saying.
Throughout my shower, lacing up my shoes, and over and around spoonfuls of cereal, I was humming along with that lovely tune in my head. In fact, I was singing along…And a King that led us to a mountaintop… right up to the point I was rear-ended on the way to work.
So now I have a dented car, a throbbing headache (coupled with the thinness from little sleep and it feels a little like Codine to me, and I enjoy Codine about as much as I do mucking out a latrine in the desert) but I’m still smiling. Wide and happy, I’m still smiling, and haven’t really stopped since I arrived this morning.
I’m glad you’re here, Mr. President.