Oh, that's just someone's sacrum. So, can I call you sometime?

Today I am treating myself to a tall caramel mocha java swirly steamy cup of fattening, expensive yumminess. It’s Jeans-Day at work (“Casual Day” means Wear the same stuff that barely passes for professional attire only jeans instead of cargo pants!) and I actually slept through the night without having scary-ass dreams last night. I’ve had a shit-hole of a week (Surprise!). It could be a combo of stress and pissed-offness and probably the two gin and tonics I drank before bed, but one night I dreamt that I was on a blind date with some obnoxious guy when my sister walked up and dumped the contents of my purse on the table and a human sacrum fell out. I had another bone dream the next night, only far more disturbing and creepy. I blame it on reading the Stephen King book on writing—he keeps using excavation as a metaphor for the resurfacing of memory and material and so on.

Hey! Check out this cool picture of Saturn: