One week down. I'm half-way through my training in LaGrange. I decided that celebration was in order. So I splurged on a two-dollar can of cinnamon rolls.
|Maybe this is why I dream about elephants . . .|
The day started off well. When the alarm went off, I was dreaming that the bedroom was full of baby elephants and I was playing with them. Yesterday morning I woke up dreaming that you had come back. You were still dead, but you were back to stay. You wanted to go back to work. You thought that Matt would let you come back even though you were dead, but you might have to work part-time. (My dreams always get more interesting toward morning.) It was wonderful to have you back, but we were quite worried over what you could do, especially if the IRS would be involved, since the government knows that you're dead. Strange stuff.
After work today I went to Sturgis for gas. The state line is less than ten minutes from LaGrange, and right now gas is forty-six cents cheaper in Michigan than Indiana. So I got gas, then stopped at Walmart for dog and cat food. That's where I got the cinnamon rolls. If you were here, we'd have gone to Kendallville to Pizza Hut to celebrate. Oh, how I'd love a Pizza Hut pizza! But I don't know. You worked for Pizza Huts for so many years - I ate there so much with you, washed uniforms that smelled like Pizza Hut, smelled you smelling like Pizza Hut, for nearly twenty years. I don't know that I'm ready for that. The smell is still in my nose, if not in my closet, washer, and bed. There's too much emotion in that smell.
So I had cinnamon rolls instead, and celebrated without you or baby elephants, just Jethro and his cats, and Gordon Lightfoot on Pandora. I'm such a party animal. It's 9:00 Friday night, and I'm almost ready for bed. Tomorrow I'll mow if the rain holds off, otherwise I'll vacuum, do laundry, and clean bathrooms. If you want to celebrate, come for a visit and we'll go have that pizza.