Isn't it Friday?

I have caught the plague from Morgan - how unpleasant. However, I'd rather have it this week than in two weeks, when I go to NEW ORLEANS. Hopefully it is low-grade sick and it will be over in a few days.

The dog has decided that she likes to get up at 6am and stare out the window. And then nudge me and whine. I think she's sleeping too much at night, either that or she's waking up with the sun now - hopefully the time change on Sunday will end this issue. If not, I'm going to whack her in the head with my sculpting stick so she'll sleep for another hour. And since I was up at 6am, I decided to exercise, which probably wasn't advisable given my current health situation. Every inch of me hurts, but I'm going to have the tighest ass in town. Or something.

On the dream front, I had one last night that Sywa had to take his dad to the doctor, but he was gone all day doing it. So Phil asked me to find out if there was a doctor in Pasadena who specialized in muscular degeneration, since that's what Sywa's dad was being treated for, and Phil didn't think he needed to be gone all day. And I went out to do just that and ended up in Santa Monica at some Chinese fast food restaurant where everything on the plate melded together and looked a lot more like Indian food than Chinese. Then the girl behind the counter, whom I guess I knew since we had a conversation, put her straw in my drink for some reason then told me that she was pregnant and I was very happy for her.

Fever dream? Perhaps. Hopefully.