Myrtle of Bloom

A somewhat better day, although it rained all night and most of the morning. When I went out for a walk between drizzles, I went out in my t-shirt, thinking it was 67. It was actually only 57. I didn't mind. The cool, damp air was invigorating, and the restless wind tossing thickly leaved green branches under a mysterious dark sky was intriguing. I had back to back nightmares and only slept for five hours. I went back to sleep after the first one, but the second one banished Morpheus. Both were typical dreams that I've had repeatedly. #1 was about being in an old house where something evil was lurking. I had to combat it so it wouldn't harm others. #2 was about being held captive and tortured by the CIA because they wanted to extract my mutant powers. Unfortunately, I hadn't figured out yet what my powers were, so I couldn't use them to free myself. "Calm down," said the repellently normal-looking operative. "We're just doing what we have to do." "Well you don't HAVE TO," I yelled. "You could just kill yourself instead." He didn't take me up on this helpful suggestion. I threw everything within reach at him--pens, ashtrays, telephones--but as one often does in dreams, missed every time. I realized I was doomed and would never get out of there alive.

I woke up and waited for it to get as light as it was going to get, and for business hours to start. Then I made an appointment for Wednesday morning with Chaplain Tina at my mother's former residence, so the Duchess and I can meet with her and plan the memorial service. Queenie and Mr. Science have opted out. Mr. Science is going up north and says we can just tell him what we want him to do. Just for that, I think we should make him dress up as a clown and tap dance--but I'm sure the Duchess won't let me write that into the program. This means I have to drive there again on Wednesday. I hate this, but I have no confidence that a conference call would work out at all well. Neither my sister nor the chaplain is very tech savvy, and the machines in the conference rooms over there never seem to be in working order anyway. I will go in person. The Duchess will either feel supported, or have a flesh and blood person to be annoyed with. Either is fine, as long as it suits her needs. I also got a preliminary quote for refreshments from Dining Services, and reserved the gathering space for that day.

We watched the second episode of Good Omens. I was a bit disappointed in the first installment, but I'm liking it better now. The Sparrowhawk and I could cosplay the protagonists. He is meticulous, looks innocent, has a heart of gold and would make an excellent Aziraphael. I could get a bit of ginger in my hair and wear my shades and be a sarcastic and bitter Crowley. The only problem is that I'm not nearly slender and elegant enough to look like David Tennant, no matter how much I dressed in black. Alas.