After two days full of sloth, I launched into a tidal wave of activities. I put up the one remaining valance in the kitchen, but nothing untoward happened (although this required standing on the counter, which was wet from recently washed dishes, and my foot slipped, causing a moment of sheer panic, mainly because if I fell it would have knocked the dishes off the counter, requiring a rewashing). This was, of course, a multi-step process, including climbing the step-stool numerous times (could not use the screwdriver bit on the drill because the drill would not fit under the bracket, had to climb down to get the real screwdriver; had to iron the valances, which were a crumpled mass, thread them onto the curtain rod, which re-wrinkled them, then hold the valances above the damp dishes while clambering up the step-stool).

Next on the list was un-potting the dead summer flowers, depositing the remains in a trash can, finding the sprayer head for the hose (found, apparently discarded, in one of the unused flower beds), washing off the deck of all the spilled dirt, clearing enough of a path in the garage to get out the kids' old wagon so that I could use it to transport the many pots back into the garage, and stacking the pots on the uneven, scarily shaky steel shelving in the garage. If I was Martha Stewart (and not keeping my head low in the Hamptons, awaiting trial), I would have scrubbed out the pots with bleach, removing all traces of this season's plantings. I am not Martha.

Movies:
0. Grease - once again I did *not* watch this movie, despite Caitlin asking me to watch it with her. I am very proud of never having watched this film.
1. Rat Race - this was the consolation movie I did watch with Caitlin, who was amused by the silliness, but was concerned about a cow having been harmed in the making of this movie.
2. A Perfect Murder (I warned you about the sloth) - I flipped back and forth between this and Original Sin. A Perfect Murder has that great New York apartment with incredible artwork, along with Viggo Mortensen in a sinister role. But Original Sin has Antonio Banderas.
3. The Majestic - weak, Frank Capra-esque effort. Good costumes, though - why don't we dress like that anymore?

Dreams: Night before last I was in a plane that looked like a life-size edition of a child's wind-up toy, painted blue and green, a squat, bulbous body and a buzzing propeller. Someone I knew was piloting the plane and I was the only passenger. We were going to Paris, and I wanted to get there in a great hurry. I managed to open an escape hatch in the bottom of the plane and jump out just before it landed, allowing me to arrive at the gate ahead of the plane, to the awe of all awaiting me. Sounds rather like Spy Kids to me. Which also had Antonio Banderas.

In last night's dream I was at a hotel with a group of co-workers who were attending a conference. I was supposed to be leading a session, but first needed to find a bathroom. The one I discovered in the maze of hotel corridors was immense - stalls as far as the eye could see (this was obviously a fantasy, as any woman can attest), although the doors were only white curtains. I found an empty stall, and was followed into the tiny space by a tall, grey-haired man who wore a badge indicating he was a hotel employee. He was hard of hearing and wore a hearing aid - that was important for some reason, which eludes me. His role was to provide me with a massage. I told him that would make me late for my session. That apparently did not deter me because I tried to call someone to tell them but I couldn't get a signal on my cell phone. Sprint wouldn't have let me down like that.