Thrush of Shadow

Last night I dreamed I was attending an elaborate baby shower, at which there were far too many candle decorations. Some of the discarded tissue paper wrappings caught fire, and I had to put them out with my bare hands. I ran around packing up the discarded papers to avert additional conflagrations, yelling "Put them out! Put them out!" because there were still too many candles. Nobody was listening. I wanted to just walk out and let them burn the building down if that's what they wanted to do, but I felt that would be irresponsible. When I woke up and heard the news, I thought for a minute I was still dreaming. Then I wished I was still dreaming. Tra la, the President has the plague, everything's still burning down . . . this is fine . . . .

I couldn't go to the store yesterday, because the car was in the shop. The engine light had come on. But it wasn't too bad because it just needed a solenoid replaced. This morning I thought I would go, but I forgot that we had a Zoom call planned with Deb and the Prussian, and by the time I remembered, I no longer had time to get there and back. I went in the late afternoon instead. Friday afternoon is not great--too many people, etc. When I got home all tired and flustered, there was a lovely surprise. The Sparrowhawk had made a big salad, cooked the potatoes, and heated up the oven so that all we had to do was shove the fish in the oven for a few minutes and then have a hot dinner.

The night before last, the rain clouds parted enough at midnight that the full moon's light could flood through, and in the moonlight the owls were hooting. That was a magical moment, worth being awake for.