I just remember having seen Sharon appear in my kitchen wearing a white paper party dress. She was cute as a button, looking to be about 9 years old. And not a behemoth 9 year old Amazon, but a regular sized, little dainty one. I complimented her on how pretty she looked.
Meanwhile, she and Jenny Bennett, or whatever her new name is now, were going to stay for dinner. I had to ask my mom if it was ok for Jenny to stay too, since my mom was ordering pizza and I wanted to make sure there would be enough. You know how that goes.
I was playing around with an ancient computer console from the 60's at the time. I believe it belonged to Walter F. Bennett, Jenny's dad. He didn't look like the real version, at least from pictures I've seen on the internet, but looked suspiciously like Ken Vigen from Hondo Die Supply, a place I worked in the '80s.
The computer looked like the kind of ancient device that could be used to start a nuclear war and Walter/Ken was a little perturbed that I'd been entering data on it while he wasn't around. I assured him that it was just a little harmless data entry and not any kind of missile launch programming, but he was not going to let it go unchecked, so he went through the data logs line by line to make sure.
Although I was still sleeping, I kept having to rehearse my speech to the vet for why I wouldn't be able to bring my cat in today. She's been experiencing anal gland leakage, and I had an early morning appointment. It looked pretty bad a day or two ago, but it has dried up and now looks less like an infection or something that they will be able to treat.
I may be stuck with poopy cat butt cleanup from time to time, but I don't want to traumatize her (or myself) with an early morning appointment today. Maybe I'll just reschedule if it gets bad again. I'd like to go back to sleep, since it's still dark out, and I could really use to get some more sleep.
Oh, and Lesa has been emailing me, now that I'm off of Facebook. More on this later.
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I've changed my comments settings to allow for anyone to comment. All comments are welcome, even spineless potshots from anonymous posters. Please, by all means, give me the tongue lashing I so richly deserve. I promise not to hunt you down and melt your keyboard with my plasma cannon. I won't, however, promise not to pout and make that face you can't stand.