Self-editing

    Now my brain isn't even letting me write about my dreams. Correction: now my brain isn't allowing me to remember my dreams long enough to write about them. Lately, I'm playing old-time-radio show Escape as my overnight drown-out-the-freight-trains-and-cats entertainment. It's pretty consistently my favorite and I have it loud enough that I can hear the dialogue if I wake up. I do pretty frequently, too, and think, "This is a good one! Maybe I'll stay up!" but then wake up a half hour or an hour later only to hear the start of a different episode and think the same thing again.
    In the mean time, I'm having pretty vivid dreams, but can remember practically nothing about them later. The only one I remember had me driving a very attractive young woman home repeatedly. I could never remember her name, nor that she smoked, nor that I always took her to the same place, which was a fairly working class Philadelphia type suburb near an airport. That was also a mall. Unless it was a beach. Because I wandered around and wound up on a beach, where there were seals, or sea lions. Except I suddenly decided I was in Australia, so maybe they were sea koalas or some damn thing.
    They're all like that, pleasant dreams that make no sense but are fairly amusing even while I'm having them. Oh and the cats seem to turn up a lot, although I'm still having trouble visualizing Harry correctly. Amelia usually does look like Amelia. Yes, yes, I know this is extra-pointless, but the alternative was discussing the temperature drop, and I think I've made the point already that 55 degrees seems really cold when it was 80 yesterday as against a few weeks ago when it seemed really warm when it was 30 degrees yesterday. Even at my ridiculously advanced age, I still find this fascinating, but I fully understand that everybody else figured this out at 5. What can I tell ya? I'm a little bit slow.