Every week is a new adventure at work. I am always loath to describe too much about what goes on behind the scenes (no need to expose the sausage making), primarily because there are so many examples of people whose jobs have been yanked away from them due to the manner in which they talked about their employment in their journals. But, throwing caution to the wind, I was informed today that a meeting for which I was not very well prepared that was planned for next week is going to be postponed. The reason? The person who scheduled the meeting has been invited to that excessive, vulgar, unnecessary party that's happening next week in Washington. It's hard to even choke out the words that I am (grudgingly) grateful, so I don't think I will.

Dreams:
The setting: Two or three apartments shared with a multitude of people.
The characters: A few people I've worked with, some college friends, a few dream created individuals, David Caruso (that obnoxiously acerbic actor on CSI:Miami).
The plot: People drift in and out of the many rooms of the apartments. Some are dressed in overcoats, others have on shorts. There seems to be some low-level complaining about the shared refrigerator and food that was disappearing. And then there was David Caruso. Naked. In need of Viagra. Or so he was informing me when we were interrupted by a girl from across the hall, causing him to hurriedly cover up. I never knew I had a thing for him, but apparently I'd be his erectile dysfunction drug dealer if I could.