Holy Moley!
Good morning, all! This is not a good day. I had dreams about my dad last night, and this morning I'm all weepy, with no wish to get out of bed or to expend any energy. The dreams had something to do with driving me back to school (airport?), his friend Lucille was in some of the dream, but so was my mother. Curiously, in my memory of the dream, I have no idea whose house I was in: it wasn't the one where I grew up, it wasn't my dad's house that we now need to sell, and it wasn't Randy's house where he died. In the course of my dream, I was being driven somewhere, and I was in the back seat. I moved forward to touch my dad, and he vanished. In my memory of the dream, my mother - who was driving - said "your dad's dead; he's not here."
She's been dead for 13 years now, and I don't miss her much; she was too crazy, and her love was thoroughly conditional. The thing I learned too slowly was that my dad's love was unconditional. Randy had a bad day a couple of days ago cleaning out dad's clothing. I have no idea how the Macbeths are coping.
Even though I want to go back to bed, I have to head downtown and deal with jury duty dates.