Today, I made myself pork and beans. No, not the kind that comes in a can and tastes like ew. The kind made with leftover spicy pulled pork and with cow peas cooked in honey, miso, and mustard. It was ridiculously yum.
I have cooked every night this week (okay, yesterday I made a sandwich, but still) and I have not had any soda since Sunday! I have had nothing to drink but water. I call this a coup. I also have been keeping my bathroom clean (remember my story about my tub?) and I unclogged my kitchen sink drain tonight! Win for productivity!
Work is good-- tomorrow is Bring Your Children to Work Day and there are going to be bunches of kids in the office. It seems really fun!
I had a dream last night and while I don't remember it in as much detail as some of the others (and yes, I know I promised folks that I would write more of the dream about the Faywright kids, I just haven't been able to sit down and think through enough of what should happen next to do it.), I do want to write down what I remember.
It was a post-apocalyptic setting and the main character was a teenaged girl who reminded me a bit of spiralstairs
. A lot of people had died, there were a lot of abandoned buildings, and whatever had happened had given rise to a lot of anti-Semitic sympathies. This is important because she found a little boy who was Jewish whose parents had both been killed, and the Neo-Nazi types who had killed his parents were after him, too. He was probably about seven or eight? Like, not a tiny baby but not quite old enough to take care of himself completely.
So she told him she'd try to help him find a place to hide, and they wandered into an abandoned bookstore that was both a university or college bookstore but also had a lot of antique and used books-- it was a big, massive store, with three levels: a main level, a basement, and a balcony inside an old Victorian-style building that still had a lot of polished wood fittings.
while the boy was urging her to hurry, she starting thumbing through the art books-- I guess she was an artist-- and when she did, the bookcase swung forward and revealed a hallway-- a well-lit, linoleum hallway like you might see in a municipal building. So she and the boy wandered in, and pulled the bookcase shut behind them.
Inside, there were refugees milling about a desk where a redhaired woman who looked a bit like Sigourney Weaver was manning a desk that looked like a hospital reception desk. She was dressed in plain green hospital scrubs and was trying to assign beds to everyone. The girl and the boy got on line but by the time they got to the front, there were no beds left. But this man who had a chainsaw with him offered to cut pieces of heavy-duty plywood to fit into the spaces in an old pull-out sofa that didn't have a mattress if they didn't mind sleeping on a wooden bed. The kids agreed gratefully and the guy cut out two narrow pieces of wood and fit them into the frame of the pullout sofa, and they got sheets and went to sleep, even though the girl privately thought that having to sleep on wood was miserable.
But then, two other kids, who were also on the run, and in worse shape than them, showed up, and the girl offered them their beds and said that she and the boy would go find another place to sleep. The desk lady gave them sleeping bags.
I remember them opening up a laundry chute and finding out that there was actually a room behind it, and that the room was full of sleeping people who shooed them. Then the girl turned and saw a big stairwell that was on the outside of the building and encased in glass, so that sunlight streamed in and reflected off the three different glass walls. Not only that, but it had a perfect view of the city-- not New York, I'm not sure what city, although it was more similar to Chicago than New York. She decided that they could sleep in the stairwell and have the most beautiful and deluxe accommodations of anyone in the place. But then these other kids, both about thirteen, appeared, also looking for a place to sleep, and they told her that they had tried sleeping in the stairwell and that they had both woken up with the worst sunburns ever. So they all agreed to help each other find a place to sleep.
The girl found a fire extinguisher box, and it pulled out, and behind it was a curtain, and past that was a small crawlspace that led to a much wider, more open hallway that had regular windows with curtains on them, and there was an abandoned cradle that was so huge, it was big enough for the little boy to sleep in. There was a handwritten note inside the cradle, open and resting on top of the blankets, but I don't know what it said, because that, sadly, is when I woke up!