Yesterday Travelocity sent me an email telling me that fares to NYC were only $143. My boss suggested Village Inn for a business lunch. I thought about washing the dishes piled on my kitchen counter. I thought about reading. I thought about writing. I thought about dating. I thought about working for a newspaper. I continued to watch too much TV, including a bit involving a shoplifter. And two days ago, I saw an episode of Seinfeld featuring the character named "Sue Ellen Mischke".

So last night, I dreamt that I went to NYC on a business trip. I walked down the eerily-unpopulated streets of faux-dream NYC to a Village Inn, where I enjoyed a pancake breakfast. Then I proceeded to carry my half-empty plate around town in my two outstretched hands, for reasons I know not. Eventually I realized I'd inadvertently stolen the plate, and went about trying to retrace my steps back to the Village Inn to return it. On the way, I stepped into a newspaper office, where I watched a handsome young man flirt with a pretty young reporter who revealed that she was working on her first novel. She introduced herself as Sue Ellen, but coquettishly offered that her friends called her "Birdy". Handsome Young Man asked Birdy out on a date, and that was all she dreamt.

Which begs the question...."Birdy"????

Wait, I just figured it out. Last night I spent way too much time trying to get my cat to play with a new feathered toy. "Get the birdy!" I urged him, to no avail. Oh, it's so disappointing to analyze my dreams and realize just how mundane they really are sometimes, especially when they are currently the most exciting part of my life.