Yesterday was the Day of the Slug. I parked on the couch and read, watched basketball, and read some more. (Michigan beat Vermont. Villanova won. UConn lost.) Eight hours of sleep last night and I’m beginning to feel human again.
Here is the freaky coffee cup story. Last Tuesday night I had a bizarre dream. I’ll spare you the details. The important thing is that I was being chased by a weird group of bad guys brandishing old-fashioned weapons. The bad guy crew included Vikings in period-appropriate gear. (It was one of those dreams.)
Me and my fellow-chasees made our way up to the attic where the bad guys cornered us. I saw three blue coffee cups on a table, empty. I picked up the first one and instantly I weighed nothing. I picked up the second and I started to float. I picked up the third and, if I scooped the air with the cups, I could fly.
The dream went on for a while. I’ll spare you those details, too. But I woke up mumbling “Blue cups, blue cups, blue cups.”
Jump ahead two days. I was in K’zoo with Terry and Kevin and Sue and we were drinking coffee in between school visits.
These were the cups we drank from. They are almost exactly the cups from my dream.
I sort of freaked out a little itty bitty bit. I tried to buy the cups, but they weren’t for sale.
You can’t force the Universe, so I didn’t beg to buy them or anything.
But I am now on a Blue Cup Alert. I’ll let you know when they cross my path again. (There you have it, Aunt Barb!)