Just one lousy nail

I can't remember much from my dreams these last few days and it is starting to really bug me. 

I have been spending an inordinate amount of time editing this blog, adding pictures and paragraph breaks, enlarging the font, etc. I'm trying to make it more visually appealing than that walls of text that I originally squirted out when I wrote this junk. 

Not that I need to have it more readable, when no one is really reading it. But since it's my only mental activity, I guess I feel obligated to try to crank out something that at least looks like a product. 

I can start now. See this here new paragraph? It was planned.

Well, not really all the way thought out. See how I just abandoned it? All forlorn looking, up there it sits, like a widow without any porridge. Like my stupid dream last night, it had one thought, one idea and then poof--nada.

 

I dreamed I had a roofing contractor out re-shingling my house. I watched him using a nail gun as he put on the last of the roof caps. He looked to be satisfied with his work, but I was a little nervous about the quality of the nails he was using. 

"What about that one?" I asked, pointing out a protruding nail that was bent almost into a hook shape. 

"Oh, we're coming back tomorrow," he said. 

Why he wouldn't just fix it right then and there kinda irked me. It was just one nail. 

It looked almost intentional, like a signature of sorts. Some guys will do that. Leave one stone out of a wall, or one post out of a fence, as a kind of personal "fuck you" to their client. It is like a code to other contractors, saying, "This guy is a dupe" or "Kilroy was here." I let him know that I wasn't gonna let it slide.

"Ok, fine," I said and followed him out to the truck as he and his crew packed up for the day. 

I kept thinking about the leak that could be generated by this one stupid nail. All sorts of scenarios played out in my head involving the replacement of vast amounts of drywall and repainting, etc. all because of this one nail. 

Later, I was in the house and had some people over. Javier Martinez is the only name that comes to mind, but I think he was part of the roofing crew and not this next little bit. 

The Who had been over to the house and had left an important paper artifact in my closet. Yes, the '70s rock band with Roger Daltry and Pete Townsend. That Who. 

It was a six foot tall pad of paper that hung on a metal frame, like a giant tombstone shaped gong. The paper was super-thin, and it kept getting folded and crinkly, so I attempted to cut the whole thing in half, making it into two manageable four foot items. Yes, I'm aware that the math doesn't add up.

It was just this conundrum that kept my mind going around in circles as I tried to restore the item to its original size. What business did I have messing with this artifact, anyway? Now it would be less valuable, that's for sure. Oh, well. The roof leak that I was surely going to have due to that one nail was gonna ruin the delicate paper anyway. 

I woke up frustrated that I didn't dream a better dream or, at the very least, remember more of the meaningless tripe that I did dream. Now I'm compensating for it by making extra, undeserved paragraph breaks and sweating out the future visuals for this stupid post. It seems I have nothing much to say, but I'm ever so concerned about how I will sound saying it.