I fell asleep two hours earlier than I wanted to and ended up getting up 6 hours earlier than I wanted to. No chance of flipping my schedule now. I will have to try to hold it for the next 10 days but more than likely I will be rescheduling that appointment. Oh, to be able to hold a schedule! It helps that I only sleep 6 to 8 hours these days instead of 8 to 10, but it doesn’t help that I’m still sometimes up for 18 hours. 

What sucks is that I can’t have my coffee for an hour. I lay in bed for a couple of hours and got up at 10 o’clock. I don’t like to take my meds before 24 hours, and I took it yesterday at 11 o’clock. Then I have to wait for a half-hour before I could have my coffee, so no food or drink other than water until 11:30. 

I noticed I now have a regular at LiveJournal, though I am not sure where they are. It seems to be a corporate IP. Anyway, in my last entry, I asked if anyone ever reads the journal to leave a comment if they do. Sure enough, the person didn’t comment. 

Before I tackle the laundry, assuming they don’t turn our water off, I thought I would do a quick entry. Other than the strange and funny dream I had last night involving the shitster in North Queerolina, not much is going on. Just working on my book and then hitting the pool later on. Skipped yesterday’s Dutch lesson, so I will probably get to that, too. 

In the dream, I was sitting at a large table with both Tom and Maliheh. Maliheh was next to me and Tom sat across from her. Maliheh had a post-it pad with a daisy design on it I thought was just beautiful. I asked her to write her name on one of the Post-its and give it to me. “You don’t have to write your last name,” I told her. 

So she starts to write and just then I had to run to the bathroom. On my way back I heard her shouting at Tom. I entered the room, laughed and said to Tom, “See? I told you she was a moody bitch who could flip on you in a split second without any warning at all.” 

Tom laughed too, as Maliheh stormed out of the room when she suddenly realized that her clothes were falling off. She began to run. Laughing hysterically, I chased her up a huge winding staircase pretending to whip out a camera and take her picture in her ultimate wardrobe failure. Still screaming, I laughed and said that I was going to post it online (even though I would never do such a thing). 

Then I returned to the table and looked at the daisy post-it still on the table. 

“What does that mean?” Tom asked me. 

I said, “She wrote du willst. That means you want.”