This morning, I awoke in the middle of a vivid school dream. It was the kind where I’m forgetting to do something, like an assignment or showing up for class all semester. I have those pretty regularly. In this instance, I departed from my usual norm of realizing I was in the course when exams rolled around.

I was actually sitting in the lecture hall, surrounded by people I’ve known throughout my life; just a smattering here and there, not everyone.   My freshman composition teacher was at the dais telling us our journal topic for the day, only I was not paying attention.

Suddenly, about 5 minutes before the work was to be turned in, I realized I was supposed to be doing something.  So, I asked my neighbor, and he told me our journal assignment had to be turned in at the end of class today, or we would receive a zero.

Seester doesn’t get zeros.

Frantically, I began searching for a clean sheet of notebook paper to write on.  I could not find any.   Settling for the back of an old Calculus homework, I got busy writing this:

Last night, I was upset and frightened.  It was dark and cold.  I stood at the edge of a bridge, not wanting to step on it – REALLY not wanting to.  Under the bridge was a deep gorge, littered with craggy, sharp rocks.   As I stood there, anxiety built in me because I knew I must test the bridge, but was afraid of making a disastrous mistake, resulting in a long fall onto those rocks.   I looked up, realizing I could not see what was at the other side of the crossing.   I do not want to know what is there.     End.

Then I woke from the dream, and it was time to go back to the hospital and see my mom again.

“So, when did Walgreen’s start doing the free Gift-with-purchase thing,” my sister asked as she came strolling into the room after a very long 2-day driving session.

“What are you talking about?”

“When I left Walgreen’s in Iuka, Mississippi, they threw in another Walgreen’s bag with some free stuff.  At first, I thought the person ahead of me must have forgotten it, but when I looked it was all sample packets.”

“S. I do not think this was a gift item.  Look at this stuff; it’s a bunch of samples from magazines and stuff.”

“Not the bottles, they aren’t in magazines.”

“No, but sometimes those free samples are attached to full size products.  I wonder if someone went around the store collecting  samples out of magazines and off the shelves? “

“You could be right, look at the lipstick samples; they are all the same color, and the glue where they were torn off the pages is still there.”

So.  I wonder if the person who assembled this bag-o-goodies is wondering where they left their collection?

Who knew?

I was driving down the main drag and saw a billboard advertising this:

I do not exactly remember the catch phrase on the advertisement, but it was something along the lines of “free yourself from French Vodka.”

I don’t like French Vodka.  I want the stuff the Russians drink, but I’ll be willing to try something distilled by good ole boys any day.

And, after this week, I could use a good, stiff drink.

Our government sucks.

I got nothing to write about.

How about some puppies!!!???!!! Awwww.

As I sit here, watching the gulf coast suffocate and die, while people bicker and argue over suspend / don’t suspend drilling, I find out that 3 (THREE) days after the rig explosion, the Dutch offered help. They offered ships and equipment that could help skim oil from the water. Each system can process 5 million gallons of water a day.

How much oil could have been removed from the gulf over the past 54 days since our government said “Thanks, but no thanks,” to the offer?

Oh. They are taking them up on it, now.

Meanwhile, the entire economy of the gulf region has been yanked out from the people who live there. There are 3 major industries: seafood, tourism, and oil platform work. I read that the moratorium on drilling can lead to 40,000 out of work in the next few months. That is not counting the fishermen and other jobs reliant on tourism.

I’ve heard talk that BP will make it right on lost wages and clean up. I’ve seen the president say he wants a slush fund to compensate victims. I don’t think there’s enough money in all of BP to fix this, and the government will just piss the slush fund away, a la social security lock box, etc.

It’s dying. My coast is dying.

So hot.

I have no inspiration when I feel nasty all the time.

Meh.