Cleaning Up My Act

I seem to be in a tidying phase at work. Many dust bunnies have been evicted.

Created the Inbox Ideas section on gender and fairy tales, for Women’s History Month.

Other than this I am most boring. People weep to know me. Various Claudette Colbert movies that I haven’t paid enough attention to to bother listing. I have a very long list of things that I should be doing, but that I seem to be ignoring. If only I could get the dust warthogs evicted from my house. Yes, they are that large.

Perci’s entry on her dad was a bittersweet thing. It’s nice to know that I’m not the only one dreaming about a father who is no longer here. In my dreams, there’s never anything quite so concrete or consistent as Perci describes. I am simply doing various things with the family and he is there. Always insanely complicated things that we seem to be up to. Last night it was something about some play that was being staged and my mother had been in charge of the costuming, which was apparently a whole lot of WWI military uniforms. Presumably that is a twisted throw back to the Vietnam lesson plan. But then suddenly I was bringing dinner to everyone and Daddy was in his chair in the living room, in front of the TV. See? Makes no sense.

When I read Perci’s entry, though, I also just felt really sad. Because when you wake up, it’s like losing him, and I feel stupid for having these very clear dreams about things that can never ever be again.