It's Here

"Working Dreams" are a recurring theme of my life. My working dreams are more exhausting than fighting the effects of sleep deprivation, but they were one of the main, unofficial reasons my word-of-mouth network was so strong during my years of contracting engineering design services. I am typically drained to dysfunction the days after a working dream series but the solutions which come out of those dreams often blow the socks off the most gifted of engineers. Last night was one of the most ambitious working dream series I've had since my working dreams broke my growing Spanish vocabulary out of the "Foreign Language" directory and created the language file by which I could think in Spanish. Fledgling fluency.

The 13 box puzzle pallet for the chicken condo arrived yesterday afternoon while Hubs was at the train station, picking up the Farm Handy (FH) from the train station. Hubs was as excited as I was and looked more than a bit sulky about having to pick up FH while I waited on the long awaited toy. Thank you for sucking it up, Honey Dude. I had the containing wrap tossed casually aside and was busy sorting the first two boxes by the time they got back. By the time we found the instructions in that 13 box collection, Hubs was in full jock mode and oblivious to the fact that he was knocking me off the court. . . AGAIN! ! ! Damned toy stealing boys! ! ! While I was working on being a good sport about ^it^, he recognized *that look* on my face and backed off with a casual talk and apology for the ball-hogging. Do I have good taste in men, or what? Even with the warts and daily use of his asshole, my Honey Dude is quite a dude.

The pallet arrived mid afternoon. By sunset, we had opened and sorted 12 of the 13 boxes and gotten through Step 1 on the instructions. The pullets were too excited for their fearful observation from under the over-turned hay cart. They were hopping across the scattered cedar and hardwire net pieces like over-educated muckety mucks, pecking at our heels to get us moving faster. As the sun set, they looked at us through their roosting stupor as if they were saying, "C'mon! ! ! You don't expect us to sleep in that brooding cage again, do ya?" Sorry Boss. Hands don't work as fast as an executive review.

My sleep was restless last night with lots of dreams about happy cooping. I feel far too fresh this morning to believe the dreams were real working dreams. Is it sunrise yet?

IT'S HERE! ! ! IT'S HERE! ! ! IT'S HERE! ! ! IT'S HERE! ! ! IT'S HERE! ! ! Party time! ! !

Inserting therapy exercises. My theraputed belief is that my excitement can careene out of control with tragic ease. Self-sabotage in motion. . . Breathing. . .