Today is a holiday?

You know what that means — I get to spend the whole day catching up on grading and prep work for upcoming labs.

I scarcely know what “day off” means anymore. Somebody will have to explain it to me someday, but there’s no point now. Maybe when I reach that mythical state of retired, if ever that happens.

Oh! I did have a weird dream last night, that I had a massive abdominal tumor that surgeons cut out of me, and they proudly showed it to me when I was lying there on the operating table (of course I was wide awake and watching the procedure). It was marbled with fatty tissue and had tufts of blonde hair sprouting sparsely all over it, with a little knot of teeth at one end. They stabbed it with biopsy needles a bunch of times, sliced it open to show me all the pus inside, and then threw it into an incinerator. I said, “We have to name it Donald.” Then I woke up.

It was a very happy dream. Prophetic symbolism, you think?


  1. says

    Congratulations on your successful imaginary surgery. May the entire nation experience a successful trumpectomy in November (whether or not it involves dragging the tumor out kicking and screaming in January).

  2. bcwebb says

    Wow, the merging of physic surgery with Anthropomancy and Oneiromancy – prophecy from both entrails and dreams!
    So it’s gotta be true – you have multiple independent sources.
    Evolutionary psychology can explain how that happened.

  3. KG says

    When Ms. KG and I moved into our current home, there was a hideous, bloated conifer “hedge” (scare-quotes because it was nearly as thick as it was high, and nearly as high as it was long) dividing the end of our garden from that of a neighbour. Because it encroached on and loomed over his garden, the neighbour had removed as much as he could from the top with a powered hedge-cutter, leaving it with a weird fringe jutting from the top on our side – like Trump’s comb-over. So of course we called it Donald. After three years of repeated atacks on Donald with implements including secateurs, spade, saw, axe, and poison, all that remains is a single stump, which I must get round to rooting out. The ground where Donald squatted is now occupied by a young apple tree, some French beans, and a row of potato plants.

  4. robro says

    As they said at the psychic school, everyone is a psychic. But at that school, the focus wasn’t predicting the future, but understanding things now. They would interpret this dream easily as: “I want to exorcise all the Trump and Trump-like crud from my world.” Who of us doesn’t? Now I’ll take a few minutes to clean my energy because thinking about Humpy Dumpy et al. gives me the willies.

  5. ANB says

    For the record, my job this year (I’ve had almost most jobs in K-12 public education) is high school independent study education (in response to the pandemic; i.e., with no planning). I have multiple high school grade levels and 54 (currently) classes to prepare for, and grade, and meet with each student (virtually each week with), and…much more. And I moved this weekend from a distant county in CA so that was most of my weekend.

    The good news is, most teachers I have had contact with, even if they are one subject or subject area, are feeling like they are lost or drowning, so I’m in good company!

  6. Azkyroth, B*Cos[F(u)]==Y says

    Was there a four year old screaming that removing it requires cutting, so it’s harmful too, and also the surgeon cut his mom off in traffic one time so removing the tumor is totally the same as leaving it in?