A dream of hieroglyphics.

The other week, I dreamnt -

I'm in a bright but somewhat functional room like a cinderblock kindergarten classroom, but with white drywalled walls and wooden bookcases and those industrial tables with metal legs and like plastic tops, and there's high tall windows on the walls letting the early afternoon light in, and I'm at the edges of the city's (lesbian feminist) chorus, who are gathering in a circle around a purple and white quilt and are starting to sing some old familiar song of theirs, informally.

Someone next to me tells me that this is a song of theirs that they've sung for quite a long time and that they all know, and I as I look at the quilt, I can see it's got a very thin purple border and is full of purple hieroglyphics on a bright white linen, and as I look closer I can see the mouth and wave symbol making the Egyptian word for "name," and then besides that it's like a smartphone, and the person next to me tells me that they all know hieroglyphics, but they just don't use the old ones, they also add to them to so they can use them now.

. . .

(I told this dream to the sister of my one assisted living client with disabilities, and she quizzed me a lot on what I saw, since she's trying to figure out whether to quit or to stay in the [lesbian feminist] chorus that she's been a member of for years and years...  She says that it doesn't matter that I had the dream and not her since it's someone close to her, and she pulled out a divination guide and began looking up the particular hieroglyphics that I could remember seeing on the quilt, to see if those could provide clues and unlock what the dream might mean for her.)

Crack of my one assisted living client with disabilities.

Right after I got my new laptop - to be honest it's more like a notebook with an attached keyboard, one of my friends who's into computers said - I was behind on the news, so one night I was going to head to a local bar with wi-fi to catch up on stories after I got out of work with my one assisted living client with disabilities.

And, oddly enough, around the time I had to clock out, I had to go take a shit, which was weird for me, since I'm usually just a morning and "before bedtime" shitter.

So, I clocked out, and asked her if I could use her bathroom, which of course I could.

"And if there's ever any questions about hours," I was like, "You should realize that I didn't try to shit on the clock and get another ten minutes in."

(She laughed at that.)

After I took my shit, too, I pointed out how I would now look thinner and hotter right as I was going to go to the local bar.

"Bonus!", she was like, raising her hands in the air in that one "raise the roof" motion.

Laptop and phone problems.

My laptop was broken for over a month before I had to go get a new one, and towards the tail end of that my phone started going too, and to tell the truth I'm pretty proud of myself and how I handled that, since I can get pretty worked up over deadlines and all my writing projects pretty much just stalled out for all that time when I didn't have a laptop.

I did manage to snag a few hours of writing at some public library branches here and there, but otherwise I just read books and focused on studying a new language, and my attitude was that whenever the situation would get worked out, it'd get worked out, and it did.

The only time I really got mad was when I pulled out my old laptop and tried doing word processing on there, only to discover that a huge section of its keyboard didn't work... I think I got ticked off because I had forgotten about that and gotten my hopes up, only to have my expectations ruined.

"No expectations," those are key words to live by.

Exchange this past month with the one resthome resident who wants to die:

Me (getting ready to leave her room): "I have work off the next few days, so maybe see you on Friday."

Her: "I hope not."

Wish of a(n elderly) (Jewish) resthome resident.

Last month, my city's new mayor very publicly slapped down one of the Trump family, and I ended up talking about that with a number of the resthome residents.

"I wish she was Jewish," said one (elderly) (Jewish) lady.

She then added that it's always great to see when someone does something great, and they're (Jewish) besides.

"We need more people like that," she was like.

A day at my one assisted living client's, which frequently involves plastic.

Before I leave my house, I pack up some strawberries as a snack, dumping them from their big plastic carton into an old grape bag that I had saved from a while ago, so it's easy to carry them and then wash them when I get there, while all the while I reuse some old plastic and so am very satisfied with myself.

Once I get there, they tell me that her new cat has discovered her kitchen counter and had chewed through a plastic bag of kitty treats that had been up there, so they're now being kept in a hard plastic container, which is also being kept on the very same counter.  I now have to be very careful when I set food out there to cool, because the cat could sneak up and get into it.

Assisted living training (2 of 2): Cleaning a vagina.

At that same assisted living training, they gave a presentation about cleaning male and female genitals, and they had a blown-up picture on a stand that they would point to and then demonstrate on with a dry washcloth.

For cleaning a vagina, the presenter clarified that you wipe top-to-bottom on outer folds, each in turn, then top-to-bottom on inner folds, each in turn, then inside, and there you "scoop like ice cream."

"Why did you have to say that?", one (black) lady in the audience was like.

"I didn't say it was ice cream, I said to scoop like ice cream," the (black) lady presenter was like.

"Still, I don't want to think of that, I want my ice cream!", the first (black) lady was like.