This morning, around 3ish, a nightmare had me flailing around like an epileptic gorilla. The "flailing" was about an inability to move or breath, and my subsequent upset. The "gorilla" part is an aesthetic judgment, based on my refusal to wear clothes to bed, and my hairiness. Those two things, combined, created quite a spectacle. I'm not sure where Nancy was, but for her sake I hope she wasn't in bed next to me. Poor woman.
Time for some New Year's Resolutions. The first one is easy, and may be implemented early. It's an obvious one, and the importance of it will be indicated via italics.
Wear clothes to bed.
That little pearl will help keep the bloom on the rose between Nancy and I. It will also make it less necessary to brush the crumbs off the bed before I climb in every night. When one is buck naked in bed, every microscopic speck and fleck grinds against your body. Where do they come from? I don't know. I just don't know. Life is a horror show. But pajamas will help keep rogue crumbs from tormenting me.
The next resolution may kill me. Fix the washing machine. The belt or the Johnson Rod or G-clamp or something is blown on that thing, and the result isn't pretty. Something magical happens in a washing machine. A level of cleanliness is achieved that no amount of sink-scrubbing or rock-beating can achieve.
The dryer works. I'm proud to say that I fixed it with a screwdriver, a file, and a lack of respect for the power of a 220 volt outlet.