Sunday in Rehab World

Great hallway art here

It occurred to me, in the dead of night, that I RILLY don’t want to be here in Spaulding over Thanksgiving weekend. Nice as this joint is (and it is), the quality of care drops over holidays and weekends. The second stringers are on board. They’re wonderfully nice folk but the big leagues may always be a few feet beyond them. Also, the place isn’t fully staffed.

Understandable but not cool, not cool.

Here’s the deal though, I thought THIS week was Thanksgiving. Nope, that’s next week. I may very well be sprung by then. HOPE so!

I'm having a few odd, interesting dreams here in Rehab World.

Dream Uno: I was in an old yellow bug. The inside had been retrofitted to look and function like Star Trek’s Discovery. Yeah, that sound you hear? Just me geeking WAY the fuck out.

I’d parked down on the beach during a huge motherfucking storm, a gale. The waves were huge and threatening. WHAT was I thinking? Finally some safety dude yelled at me enough that I figured I’d better drive off. Incredibly, I wasn’t stuck in the sodden sand—made it back up onto the road—no swept out to sea action. All I could think was a) how incredibly lucky I was to get out of danger and b) how stupid I was for getting into that spot to begin with.

The story of my life.

Dream Duo: I was at a birthday party in San Francisco for my friend Kyle’s ten year old daughter. Everyone was brilliantly happy. The air was filled with bubbling joy. The house was a converted three story old brick apartment building on steep hill (yes, totally unaffordable but he bought it a millenia ago) We were celebrating in a shaded side yard of gorgeous tall trees. Beauty with so much love, mirth and bliss.

Why these dreams? I'm happy I survived another Nf2 fecal tsunami (duh!) and thrilled to bitty bits to have so many wonderful friends. Yup, that's me, Little Mary Sunshine. Fuck yeah!