We’re supposed to be spring cleaning, but the kids are watching nail art videos on YouTube and deciding which My Little Pony would wear each design.

I had a lot of weird dream bits last night, but the one that had me thinking when I woke up was the one in which I had a ghost mode.

The ghost mode allowed me to walk through solid objects, but when I transitioned into a ghost, the visuals changed. Suddenly everything would look dim and there was nobody else around. As the dream wore on, I had trouble coming out of ghost mode and sometimes it flickered back and forth, until the end when I was stuck as a ghost.

There’s definitely some kind of “moral to the story” there, but that’s not what I thought about when I woke up. Instead, I was trying to figure out if ghost mode represented some kind of time dimensional shift or if I was actually a ghost and what I saw when I was not in ghost mode was the “memory mode” (hallucination) of a ghost.

I discovered that I don’t actually want to be a ghost.

Once upon a time, there was a little family living in a little house on a little street in a small city. The four children, Emily, Michael, Matthew, and Ellie, all went to bed at bedtime and went right to sleep without talking or playing.

And their parents lived happily ever after.

The End

Sometimes I wish I had nothing to do, nothing planned out in the future, nothing coming up or coming due, no expectations on me, and nothing on my schedule.

It wouldn’t have to last for too long, a summer maybe. *sigh* Just something I miss about childhood, I guess.

The saddest thing about the thought of dying is that everyone who remains will have to live in a world without moi. How is that even possible? Luckily, I’ll never have to experience that.

Though it might be nice to try for a day or ten.

My week didn’t last long. Well, more accurately, it didn’t start yet. My coworker Carl, skilled in the ways of culinary temptation, must have a sixth sense about these things, because he chose today as the day to designate the general snack area as Jill’s Chocolate Corner, filled with treats chosen specifically to hit me in my weakest points. The coup de grace, a creation of his sister’s, took my vague mention of favoring chocolate mousse and transformed it into a cake, including a layer of cheesecake and topped with chocolate ganache.

Tell me, how could I have stuck to my arbitrary weeklong challenge when faced with an obstacle like that before I was even warmed up?

I’m going to challenge myself to make the healthier choices, just for this week. No coffee, no soda, no sugar/dessert, no alcohol, no elevators, eating good yogurt and salads and appropriate portions of meat and veggies, working out at least 3 days, going to bed at a reasonable time, etc.

Starting tomorrow. I mean, hey – it’s St. Patrick’s Day!

What is the cure for that, do you suppose?

I love words. There’s so much beauty, joy, in a sentence or phrase perfectly composed to express the ideas in your head. When you’ve turned the thought inside and out and looked at it from every angle, until the correct words click into place… it just feels amazing. Even if no one else gets it – if, for me, the words match the thought, I am satisfied.

But of course, that’s only one side of communication, and my perfect match can still be a word salad to someone else.

I’m so tired this morning that I ordered a shot of espresso in my coffee, but when she handed me the cup with the shot in it, I just stared at it wondering what I was supposed to do with it. I was thinking, this cup isn’t full… why isn’t it full? It was close to a full minute before I remembered that I needed to add the coffee to it.