Dreamed Dialogues

I worked today more than I have in weeks. It’s not so bad, but I am definitely becoming used to the “live by my own terms” way of scheduling a day.

We are today seeing the last of the candidates for what will soon no longer be my job. It is very unusual, witnessing your own replacement. Almost like cheating in a way. I can’t imagine a man saying to his wife, “Baby, I need something more… specifically, physically. But, out of courtesy to you, I would love to get your thoughts about each of the women I am considering taking as my mistress. Realize before you comment that I will be leaving you for one of them, so speak carefully. Wanna do this right, ya’ know.” But not exactly like that.

I had pizza yesterday for lunch, and it made me depressed. Not because of some sort of diet thing, I just literally felt emotionally poor for several hours after that. I must find some new sort of cop-out meal.

I am just a shade worried about this coming Saturday. Though I am quite certain this won’t happen, I have this feeling that things that don’t seem to me like a great idea might seem to some like a great idea. I keep having this terrible vision of me being stripped naked, and hearing a couple of people say, “Oh come on, Brett. Play along!” This is followed by the naked me being carried in the air on the right shoulders of four people who proceed down the stairs of Tasty World and walk up and down Broad Street chanting and shouting. Every time I voice the complaint that this might be overboard, the reply is always, “Oh stop Brett, it’s a roast. It’s what people do at roasts.”