Maybe your subconscious is telling you that you should be a sailor, sara.

A sailor that takes warning more than she takes delight? Maybe her subconscious is tell her, "I want to be a sailor, but it's probably not worth the trouble. Never mind. What's for breakfast?"

I used to sail! Actually, I know what my subconscious is telling me: don't wanna get up.

sarameg was bitten by a dhow.

I was up at 5 because the dog got up and I tried to see if he'd just go back to sleep but the big cat kept rubbing against him and blocking his path to his sleepin' chair and so I had to get up and take him outside. Which these days involves carrying him downstairs. Then he decided to eat all his food when he came back in and I had to wait for him to come back upstairs (if I left him down while I went back to sleep he'd pace around downstairs all confused about where I was). poor old elderly dog...but dag I'm tired.

Somehow, though, Hef came across as very sexless.

ITA. He often seems a bit doddering, and a little bemused by what his girls get up to.

Hey, there's a wikipedia entry on the girls next door: [link]

My dhow dent is mostly gone now...

I just went for coffee break and I wanted a scone. A plain scone, or maybe one with cheddar, nothing fancy. The only scone options at the coffee place by work were blueberry and sour cherry & mango. I totally stood there looking at the tarted up scones thinking "Just eat a muffin whitey!" and cracked myself up.

Oh. Oh. I just jacked up my knee so bad I almost puked. And then I burned my hand on coffee. I think Wednesday is trying to take me out.

My most traumatic scone experience was when I was in New Zealand, and bit into a scone, and it had bits of ham in it.

My most traumatic scone experience was when I was in New Zealand, and bit into a scone, and it had bits of ham in it.

Suicidal pig tried to jam the evil scone machine?