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I've set up shop in the family room, with stacks of papers in need of grading. I woke to tend to nature's needs, came out here, and was promptly joined by Mr. Clydiecat, who is rapidly becoming quite the writer's muse, I should say. He's crawled into my lap, tail against my right elbow and chin in my left wrist, to purr and (I suppose) enjoy the vibrations of my typing tendons against his furry little throat. Whatever it is that he likes most about writing with me, I'm glad of it. During the day, he's a holy terror (not to be confused with the holy terrier some of you were talking about earlier) and doesn't want anything to do with anything remotely resembling cuddling. He wants to be known as some sort of stoic feline warrior who would care nothing for the strokings and pettings of the common housecat. He surely is an uncommon housecat, and yet, in the wee hours of the morning, he is much more than content to join and enjoy the pampering.

I was dreaming earlier. Several things from reality entered into the dream. First was a blinding pulse of energy which would destroy anything it touched, even if the advance of the flash were slowed in some manner. I've been playing an online build-your-own empire game called The Lacuna Expanse (my brother-in-law is part of the huge team developing this game, so message me if you want an invitation to the game). In the game, you build various buildings and "grow" them in order to be able to have and do certain things on your planet. In my dream, I'd built an energy pulse repulser. So, this pulse of energy came from outer space, and my little planet was able to safe tiny communities and middle-class citizens by putting all the rich and elite in the largest spaces (like NFL domes) while the poorer simply hid in the dark until the danger was past. In my dream, we were all turned to vampires, and the dream-daughter was able to avoid becoming a full vampire because seh had been exposed to the combination of the ray and the repulser ray.

Confused? Me too, because it would appear that several key details of the dream are missing from the telling, and dreams have a nasty habit of only allowing the light of day to touch some of them.

While grading papers, I talk to the student whose paper I've looking at. I may have made some disparaging remarks while looking at some of the papers, yesterday. My frustration comes from what appears to me to be a plain old Lack of work ethic. For example, who does someone get zero out of ten points on a paper that the teacher requires you to do with the book open?

Since I'm drifting in and out of dreaming while I try to write this, I'm about to pack it in and head back to bed.


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April 2015

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