My dog was hurt. Bad. As in, he had some sort of disease or flesh-eating bacteria or something. I remember seeing him in the dream, and from then on, having to not look Piers in the face, because it was too traumatic.
My grandma's cat was suffering from something similar. I took them both to a vet, and they said it was terminal.
I remember asking if I sacrificed the cat, would my dog be well again?
And Caboodle was back for a cameo, trying to pet "Puppy." Which I couldn't allow, due to how bad the dog was sick.
Yipes. Why must I have traumatic dreams about Piers? This is the pet I've loved the most.
It's bad enough that he's got one eye these days, and that I haven't seen him in about two years.
Sigh. I miss my dog.
* * *
So I was doing some laundry on Saturday night.
My dress clothes needed to be cleaned for this week's work schedule.
When I was leaving for some hangout time with girlone, I couldn't get my laundry into a dryer. So I left it there.
Sunday, I woke up feeling horrible, and so I didn't go in to work. It was kind of a good thing, since I didn't have any dry dress clothes, and because I needed the rest to heal.
On Monday, I dragged myself to work regardless, and woke up early to put my stuff in the dryer.
Which is when I realized that my landlord locked the laundry room on Sunday, and hadn't been back to unlock it.
So all the was between me and dry clothes for work was a locked door.
My pants were taken hostage by my building.
Luckily, I was able to find a clean pair of pants and a clean shirt. And I scrounged up a mismatching but clean pair of dark socks.
Today, however, my laundry's going to be dry!
* * *
I had a fun talk with my friend Cricket last night.
Her MSN name was "I eat monters, burp!"
Which, of course, as I knew, was from a Dennis Lee book I read from a LOOONG time ago (and had the album on reel-to-reel). (Well, actually, I thought it was Robert Munsch at first, but Cricket corrected me.)
So it turned into a talk about favourite stuff from our childhood. Good stuff...