19 August 2003 - 11:58 p.m.

No, really, I can.

Dream premise: What if some of the cast of SnS's 2001 production of Harvey reunited to help Dr. Chumley pull a Kenneth Branaugh on Pericles? What if they were all unemployed and had to camp out in a tiny room in Tinsel's parents' house for the run of the show?

Sample dream dialogue:

KELLY: (exiting bathroom in a towel, to CHUMLEY and SANDERSON) Don't go in the bedroom, I have to get dressed.

SANDERSON: Too bad, I was about to go in there.

KELLY: Oh come on, I'll be quick.

SANDERSON: You have three minutes.

KELLY: I can't be dried off and decent in less than six.

SANDERSON: (looking at watch) Then I look forward to when your three minutes are up.

KELLY: Why are you wasting your sight on looking forward to things? You could be looking at me naked in three minutes.

Yeah, it's bad, but not that bad for me not being awake. Gus pointed out that it may have been the most plausible dream I ever had.

I'm glad I vented about my cold yeasterday. It seemed to do me some good. My symptoms are far from gone, but they are lessened, and I didn't feel like dying when I got out of bed this morning.

I just talked to my brother on AIM. He just got to college, and has his computer and ethernet all set up now, which means within three months he will be enough of a net junkie to have disovered this diary.

Which is really just as well, because he might as well find out that I am semi-articulate when I want to be. My first day of school advice to him?

"Good luck tomorrow. Not that you'll need it. College is pretty easy. But you should still try and stuff."

Okay, that wasn't my actual advice to him. My actual advice went out over AIM, which means it was completely devoid of capitalization and punctuation.

I am one mother of an example for the young 'uns, no?

What I'm wearing: Red surplice top, gray drawstring pants

What I'm reading: Xavier Cugat, "One Mint Julep"

What I'm doing after this: watching Conan. (O'Brian, not the Barbarian)