Visiting France, Fishbowl

        One of the dreams I had last night involved N and I taking a trip to France (and presumably other parts of Europe.) We were making our way around with the tour group and then split off to try food in a little restaurant we’d seen from the bus. Neither of us really speaks French, but we had a little cell phone sized translator, and we were making our way through the menu, and trying to chat with the server.

        After much mangling of the French language and humor about it all around, I translated “It’s tough to sound clever when you only know fifteen words,” and showed it to the waiter, who cracked up with us. We had the best service ever after that, and a couple of people even came over for our autographs and hilarity ensued as we tried to explain that we weren’t famous.

        The next dream wasn’t as fun. I was at work (in my new desk which has a window right next to the entry of the building. So everyone who comes into the office can see my computer screen before they enter. I joke that I moved from the small fishbowl into the larger one. My boss came in to tell me I needed to always have something official looking up on my screen, and I needed to make sure I didn’t pick my nose or scratch while I was at my desk.

 “Is it okay to suck my thumb and rock back and forth sobbing instead?”

He did not look amused.

Ad astra per technica,

FF