Awwright, who drugged my cocoa?!?!?!

I went home and did homey things, made dinner and hot chocolate, started reading in bed for a while...and woke up at 7:30 this morning!!!
I got nearly 11 hours of sleep. I think Morpheus got me in the back of the head with a sandbag-filled blackjack or something. *rubs neck*

I had tons of dreams, too. Some about old roommates, some were very surreal, one had nightmarish qualities, but they were all interesting in their way.

A LIST:

Wearing: White long-sleeved t-shirt with green dancers,black tuxedo shirt, (tied around the waist right now, it's hot in here) long black skirt, big boots, twin ponytails, rhinestone watch, antique necklace I bought when I was a teenager.

Drinking: Hot coffee. I wish I had some icecubes.

Wishing: For all sorts of things--the three day weekend coming up, a chance to pick up some stuff for a doll I'm making,etc.

Thinking: Of people I haven't heard from in a long time.

Trying to remember: A poem I wrote in my sleep...Damn it was good, but I can't quite remember it now. *Sigh*

Feeling: More than a bit hormonal...urrrgh...

But enough about me....how are You?

Workity work work work...

Work work workity work
*Fight with copier*
workity workity
*look for unusual thing to order*
work work
*guzzle water, stick labels on things, find stuff*
worka work work
*fight fax machine, figure out what order to do afternoon stuff in*
Working working work work *sigh* work
*Prep envelopes, leave notes to self for later
Workies work work worka work
*help someone with faxes, sending things, ordering stuff*
*Slap someone's hand reaching for the "delete" button*

Is it lunchtime yet?

Workity work work....

Conversations at work...

(A disclaimer for the very literal minded: Peter and I say rude thing to each other daily. He knows I'm Pagan and doesn't have a problem with it.)

"Hey Michelle, did you pick up your office supplies shipment?"
"Yeah, I did."
"I tried to leave you a message on the phone, but it wasn't doing anything."
"Really? Somebody might have accidentally hit one of the other buttons and turned it off."
"I thought it was just your Wiccan-pagan Devil-magick keeping it off."
"That's what you thought, was it?"
"Yeah, you and your devil-worshipping ways..."
"I'll be sure to write that down in my daily report to My Lord and Master Satan."
"You do that...Jesus watches over me, Michelle!!!"

*Peter starts gabbling in tongues while I laugh*

Ms Eff....Work is Hell...No, really....*grin*

*Gnaws on pencil*

I've been trying like crazy to remember the poem I wrote in my sleep last night...all I have are pieces...

Something about having to leave behind all the names that I used for definition, because I was on the banks of The River that Never Runs...
Worker
Neighbor
Aquaintance
Daughter
Sister
Friend
Enemy
Lover
Ex-lover
Aunt
Young
Old
Roommate
Tenant....

And watching them swirl away in the wind, lost in the dusk.

Then having to let go of the harder ones.

Artist
Poet
Woman
Guilt
Fear
Hate
Love...

and standing on the banks, just me, stripped of everything. Like Inanna when she visited her sister Death. Except unlike her my purpose wasn't to cross to the other bank to the land of the Dead.

And I could see figures on the other side. People I recognized as dying, but not in the faces and bodies I would have recognized from the lives they lived.
They, and I were beyond the need for the shorthand of faces and body language. Our unspoken heartfelt language was recognition...

This is all a bit fractured, I think I fell asleep again right about this point.
In time when it settles a bit I think it'll make a good poem. What are your thoughts?