I'd tell you about my weekend, but there really isn't anything to tell.

So instead I'll tell you about my morning so far, which has proven far more interesting (at least to me).

<DREAM SEQUENCE>

It began with me waking up from a very odd, rather disturbing apocolyptic dream (the second such in as many weeks. I blame Coupland) in which my mom and I drove through Claremore and passed an El Camino that was surrounded by police cars. In the back of the Camino sat a teenaged boy and a bunch of important looking Middle Eastern men. Camera crews and reporters were swarming the police, trying to get through. We wondered what was up, so we went home to catch it on TV.

We turned on the TV to find it on every channel. For some reason, this unknown teenage boy was being forced to mediate global peace talks right there in our little town. We didn't understand why the boy was handling this, and neither did he, apparantly, because he kept saying so. There was nothing special about him, the police just grabbed him as he was passing by on his skateboard and stuck him in there with the Arabs and told him the fate of the world rested on his ability to convince these Arab leaders to sign a peace treaty.

To further complicate matters, the US government had somehow tagged every US citizen according to age and was able to target a nuclear missile to a specific person or people. Every time the boy screwed up, they were going to fire a bomb and take out an entire age group, starting with 60 and over. Sure enough, the boy screwed up, and this Secret Service looking guy in the back of the Camino pushed something that resembled a Jeopardy! buzzer and everyone in America age 60 and over did an impression of a cartoon being electrocuted, then they recovered and looked around at each other wondering what happened. At that point the guy with the buzzer said, "There go the old folks," and the news cut to footage of nuclear missiles being launched.

</DREAM SEQUENCE>

That's about when I woke up, feeling very disconcerted, wondering if I should go take shelter somewhere, because I knew that it was impossible for them to blow up one person with a nuclear missile without also taking out everything else around them for miles. Then I realized that I'd been dreaming, so I got up to walk my dog.

It was raining. Fizgig doesn't like the rain, so I had to carry him out to a spot where he could go, and then I had to stand there and hold my umbrella over him while he did his thing. I got soaked. So did he, actually, as the umbrella was pretty ineffective.

After getting cleaned up and coming into work (by which time the rain had stopped), I poured some coffee, checked my messages, answered my e-mail, and began to ready things for an interviewee when the fire alarms went off. Fire drill. Whee.

Since I am the Fire Warden for my floor, I went 'round to all of the cubes and conference rooms and offices and the break room and made sure that everyone at least had the opportunity to make it out okay. By the time I finished and was ready to evacuate myself, I realized that, had this been an actual emergency, I'd probably be dead by the time I finished making sure everyone else got out alive.

Instead of evacuating myself, since I figured if it were not just a drill I'd be dead now anyway, I hung around the office, in case the interviewee showed up. Wouldn't want her coming in to an empty office with the alarms blaring. Probably wouldn't make a great first impression.

Since I didn't evacuate, I was deemed a casualty by the Fire Drill Police. I asked them if, since I'm dead and all, I can go home, but they said no. So here I am, avoiding work, and hoping that my weirdness quota for the day has been sufficiently filled. I haven't had nearly enough coffee yet to be able to deal with any more.