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Shhhhh . . . here it comes

. . . can you hear it? That's the sound of the END OF THE WEEK.

Whatever you do, I'm begging you, don't chase it off.

I've never been a TGIF type (unless you count my friend Don's job at a TGIF while we were in high school, when my friend Susan and I created the fried mushrooms and White Russians combo after-school platter). Whether it's the Anchorage training beginning in earnest or the accumulating pressure of all the things I need to get done at home, though, I am frantic for my work week to end. I have this coming Friday and Monday off, so I'll be able (in theory) to get a lot done.

I was having this dream that had virtually no linear structure. At one point these two guys, British pop-star types, were acting out one of their songs for me. The song was playing on a record player, and we were outside, and they were running around the yard of this large house. As the song drew to a close, they started acting out the demise of their band, which was somehow included in the recording. Something they did made me laugh really hard, and then I felt odd, somehow frozen in a moment. I half woke and the door to the bedroom opened and Jeff peered in cautiously.


"Honey . . . are you all right?"


Apparently I had laughed out loud, really out loud. The bedroom door was closed and Jeff had earphones on in the office, and still he heard me. I've woken myself up crying and singing before, but this is the first time I've done it by laughing. Fun!

Today is a rest day, as far as training goes. I'll get to come home from work and do whatever I want and stay up as late as I want tonight. Am I looking forward to this? Oh, you know it.