I got my ass worked off last night! Busy, busy, busy all night long. No supper, even. I then hung around until 08:00 when Human Resources opened to pick up my service award for 25 years. It is a gold ring with the St. Francis Logo and a surprisingly large diamond. Really pretty, I guess I'll wear it at work, though I usually don't wear any jewelry at work(except my obligatory earring, of course). I missed the awards dinner last week, I had to work.

I was exhausted when I got home. Spent some time checking e-mail, etc. then went to bed. I slept really well, except for a dream that I will tell you about.

All of my life I've been having this dream in some different permutations. The basic premise is that some way or another I acquire the ability to fly and manipulate objects with my brain. It is always such a neat feeling, and I'm always so disappointed when I wake up and find out that It really doesn't work. Or maybe it would work if I could just *really think positively*... Anyway, today's dream featured Bob Dole, someone who's been a really scary object in my dreams in the past. Bob was amazed at my abilities, and was trying to get me to use them to help him win the presidency. I told him to fuck off, and he got really angry and sent the Kansas National Guard against me, and I was having a ball flying around eluding them. They didn't really want to shoot me, but Bob was stomping around yelling and offering them rewards for killing me. Of course, I escaped by the usual method, waking up.

This was triggered, of course, by Bob's announcement yesterday resigning his Senate Seat. I think that I'm happy about this. Bob Dole in any position of power scares me. As a president, I believe that he would be much worse that Nixon. I have the same feeling about Dole that I had about Dickie, I was right then, and I'm right now. The election is Bill's to lose. I just hope that he doesn't blow it.

Well, back to work. Heading for the weekend and all of the mayhem that accompanies it, the drunks and the fights and the wrecks and the fighting and knifings and shootings. For a lot of people of the above ilk, of course, the weekends never end... and the hospital never gets paid.