...and me without a washer

            Pretty, multicolored grapes cascading and bouncing like on one of those game app commercials. To the floor, and I assume they’ll squish. In a second, kids will pile in. They’ll slip on them and eat them when they shouldn’t! Plus, they’re made of Silly Putty. Drip. And Bernie Sanders is coming to speak. I’m the one who has to get out of bed and get these grapes off the floor. But, why is it dark all-of-a-sudden? This is a gross challenge to my perspective. Drip.

            Oh. A dream. And that damn faucet woke me up. I have to get the grapes… There are people… I have to… No. The Silly Putty grapes can stay… No! There are no grapes! I don’t have to do shit! Except figure out the faucet. Later…

            Meanwhile, I’ll read. The Energizer Bunny has nothing on Solzhenitsyn! He was a piece of work. He just kept going, according to this bio… What did that last paragraph say? I go back, and it changes. Blerp! And that faucet isn’t helping. Many found him very charismatic. Poit!

            Cheese and Crackers! That faucet! At least the book waits until I’m lucid. The words won’t keep changing. Wonder if it’s dripping on dishes left to soak. Your guess is as good as mine. I just eat what happens. We can remain primitive is some ways. Take that, Doctor Oz. Parp! I get to all the food groups eventually. It’s a balance. Like that problem with the waterways. Swamps refresh water, trap pollutants and they degrade there…hopefully. But you don’t want everything to clog. Pip. But, I’d rather all the water stay in one place now. It has to stop. Perp! Why does it always have to flow! Damn that drippy faucet. Right now, I would clog the world like Love Canal! Like Lake Erie, circa ‘70’s. It needs a washer. Berp. Asking for a washer. They put them in a mold, I guess. Bit of WD 40… Pour in some rubber goo. Over breaded chicken. That would be nice. Those red pepper bits… The texture… They bring the sweet and sour. Kylie Minogue is as pleased as I am at the timing.

            Wow.

            No need for me to be all talky. Tuck in! And, we do. There’s pounds, Kylie. Literally pounds. Orange juice in that. Vitamin C. Good for the immunity. She won’t get the sniffles. Let the music speak for itself. The world adores her. This is confirmed by the song they’re playing on the PA. No need to ask silly fan questions. She leans over the table to me and says: “Bloop!”                            

            Now I’ve had it! Up. Out. Dang blanket... Out! Push the knob. Press the washer. Back.

            Note to myself: Learn plumbing.