Well... A few minutes at the end of the day with no bosses about... I had one of my train dreams last night. This seems to be a new recurring dream. I used to have dreams about fire or water when I got really stressed, but I suppose I've not been as stressed lately, which is a good thing. My recent recurring dream always seems to involve a subway of some sort, which I have taken to some ridiculously distant location. Last night, I had taken the San Diego trolley to somewhere south of downtown. My actual stop was supposed to be downtown, but I'd missed it and got off instead at some sort of artistic workshop in a large brick building with homeless people milling around out back. I wanted, originally, to walk back to town - I was with someone - I don't remember who, but it was actually too far, so we decided we would take the trolley. I walked back into the workshop - I guess I was there visiting someone, but I don't remember who, and found a ticket, with my name on it, lying around on the countertop. On the floor were numerous inlaid trackways for various trolleys, which I had to jump over to get to the one I wanted (this is almost always a constant - many different, intertwined tracks, and me having a difficult time getting to the one I want). Anyway, I manage to get onto the trolley, which heads back towards downtown in this great sweeping arc. Between where we are and downtown is a very large, barren field, full of disused and wrecked planes, farm implements, tanks, etc, all half-buried in the ground. In the trolley itself, the seats are actually wet trough-urinals, which people are sitting in. Not wanting to stand, I perch myself on the edge of a seat and make some comment about how they didn't really design the seats well in these earlier light rail systems, and off we go. I look beyond downtown, to see Mt Soledad and the fog rolling in, and then my alarm goes off. I wake up and think, hmm - life is very strange indeed.
Anyway, life progresses. Last week I spent with a horrible stomach bug. Suppose the good thing is that it was a very easy way to drop 2kg ("Always look on the bright side of life..."), but OMG I just wanted to keel over dead. This last weekend I ventured out on my bike - 57 miles on Sunday, which was lovely except for getting stuck in hail and driving rain. I think that's the 2nd time in my life I started to get hypothermia. The first time also involved driving rain and a long downhill. Maybe I should wear more clothing.
Both David and Robin have bikes now - between them they spent something like £1500. And I still go out biking on my own. How sad. I suppose I enjoy the time to myself - otherwise I wouldn't do it, but there are those times, such as when one is stuck in the middle of nowhere in hail, wearing shorts and a flimsy rain jacket, when company would be nice. Suppose it's time now to pedal off to the gym. Tomorrow morning I'm taking my bike in for a tune-up, which always ends up costing stupid amounts of money (suppose that's what happens when one rides it 200+ miles per week). Should have just gotten a car. Not.