I crashed hard last night and slept to the backdrop of fever-induced dreams. These dreams are always in hyper-color and often feature casts of thousands. Last night it was a little smaller-scale...in the dream, we had a house with tile shower in the basement. I went downstairs to find the tile, ceiling and all, had collapsed. Upon waking, yet still pretty out of my head, I had to think long and hard to determine if we did, in fact, own that house. I was relieved to discover we did not.
After a morning of rest, I feel better than I have in 48 hrs, so this afternoon I have dragged my sorry carcass to the Missions Base for a couple of meetings - one with an internship leader and another with the marketing/design team. I am presently waiting for the first appointment to show up. I'm hanging at Higher Grounds - IHOP's coffee shop - amidst a gaggle if bandwidth hogging laptop toters, where the soundsystem is playing Jars of Clay's debut (and ironically, best) cd. Funny how it's older than dirt and still sounds fresh.
Bookstore Maven Kristen just popped in to give me a "what are you doing here, your sick!" lecture, which stood in stark contrast to the "Get to work, you bum!" speeches I've been getting from Carrie, the marketing coordinator. That's tough talk from someone I can fire. Note to self re: Christmas list: Add Kristen, delete Carrie.