Anna S. (eliade) wrote,
Anna S.
eliade

*nap*

I dreamed that I'd missed the bus and was bicycling miles and miles along mountain roads, in the winter rain, holding a carrot, a pencil, and an enormous, heavy, unwieldy copy of the Riverside Shakespeare--with a frickin dust jacket. As I pedalled alongside the traffic, uphill, I thought, "Oh well, at least I'm getting exercise..."

...and then I woke up, sluglike and bedheaded on my couch, looked around, and went, "Crap."
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