I went to bed at Midnight. I had nearly six hours sleep, which is extraordinary for me. I remembered three of my dreams.

  1. I dreamt I found a box of paper ephemera and photographs from English people who lived in India during the Raj. The papers consisted of symphony programs, bulletins, various items. They were all autographed by the attendees, now long dead. Obscure members of The Royal Family were remembered in photographs.
  2. I dreamt that a woman I had a major crush on when I was in my thirties came back to Richmond to visit. At that time, I was married to wife #2. We made love one night. It was sweet. And it was the only time we ever had an opportunity to get together. In the dream, we were making plans to reunite when I woke up. My issue in the dream as I awakened was to how to let her know of my location so we could meet up.
  3. The third dream was about fixing up a house I lived in from 1962 to 1974. We were going fix it up to sell. It was smallish so entertaining would be a challenge. We could probably only accomodate the President and First Lady and none of the cabinet should they come by. I specifically thought of President Trump and Melania. My wife was none too happy about The Donald dropping by.

So there. I woke up, fixed J’s lunch, wrote this post and finished just as train #174 pulled into Ashland on the way to Washington and New York.

Yesterday, at dinner, I told J I was thinking about going back to work, so she could retire or maybe work less. Most of the piles of crap in the house are hers. They include old client files from when J had an accounting practice. This is important because the house is a hoarder’s paradise. We want to organize and remodel the house to make it livable and welcoming, maybe not to Donald and Melania though.

It’s going to be a beautiful day.

Last night I went swimming, did OK, swam a little over a mile. I came home fixed a pot of decaf and did a load of laundry. J told me how touched she was that I would consider going back to work. We’ll see how this develops.