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My weekend was spent sleeping. I mean that literally. That’s why there was no entry yesterday; I fell asleep before I could write one. So today is a ‘two-fer’ built into one update.

Despite all the sleep yesterday I don’t remember having any dreams. This is unusual since there were periods of being awake for a while. Usually sleeping after being awake enables me to remember dreams and, sometimes, to realize that I am dreaming.

So, needless to say, yesterday was a total bust for writing material.
Today I buckled down and watched the Star Trek: Voyager episode that cemented my opinion of Captain Janeway being the most evil Star Fleet captain, ever. That episode is "Tuvix," where Tuvok and Neelix become melded together into a new life form. An admittedly new life form. A life form who pleaded to be allowed to live. A life form who begged to be allowed to live. And Janeway snuffed the life of this new life form for the simple reason that she wanted her friend, Tuvok, back. Unlike the other episodes that feature new life forms, I don’t think words "prime" or "directive" even got a mention.

I also made the mistake of watching Conan The Destroyer. It’s a bad movie. Bad, bad, bad. Arnold is a big hulking guy but he delivers his lines like he’s apologizing to everyone. Something I don’t Conan, the "real" Conan, would do. It also has a battle with a demon-wizard fellow. Now, I’m no expert in sorcery, but it seems to me that if you’re going to change yourself into a monster that can only be damaged by breaking mirrors then the last place you want to stage an epic battle against a barbarian with a big sword is in your hall of mirrors. The movie ends with a badly made rubber suit coming to life. Briefly. It also features Mako as a wizard who looks like he’s passing kidney stones when he makes his magic. The movie is a mess from start to finish.

I was explaining to my therapist today why I can’t be a famous author. The reasons being, as I think I’ve mentioned: I’m not crazy, I don’t have a substance abuse problem, and I haven’t lived a particularly hard life. I suspect she’ll be insisting that our sessions continue.

Last night I made a seven bone roast for dinner. I’m taking that on faith, since I didn’t count the bones. I just went by what the sticker said. I wonder what’s so special about "seven bones." I didn’t see any stickers on other cuts of meat stating, "One bone" or "four bones" so I’m assuming having seven is good. I should have counted them. I’ll be having leftovers for dinner tonight, but it’ll be too late to count since I know I threw some away last night. But, if I count them now and there are seven then I can assume  I had more than seven and got a great deal.

I just got back from shopping again and this time I saw no packages of meat with a bone count. I’m beginning to think I ate a "special edition" roast and I’m a bit upset I opened it and didn’t store it in an acid-free bag.

Before shopping I had my customary pumpkin spice latte at Starbucks. I wish the Starbucks and Dunkin’ Donuts would switch places, but the "double-D" closes at 8pm and that wouldn’t do me any good at all. Anyway, I was sipping on my latte, being all artistic and stuff, and noticed that someone had let the crickets out again.

I’ll be the first person to admit that I have an irrational fear of bugs. And insects. And just about anything that has an exoskeleton, because I’m convinced they are alien and come from another planet. In fact, lobsters, crabs and crawfish are just big wet bugs as far as I’m concerned. But I fear them. Violently. Once, I rented a basement "apartment" in a house. When I was moving in I had two gigantic monitor boxes. You may think you’re hot stuff, now, dual-wielding 23" monitors in each hand without a breaking a sweat, but back then 21" were the king and they were huge. They came in huge boxes. I had two of these things loaded down with junk. They were so heavy, I could barely move them. But I did manhandle them into my little basement.

While I was unpacking one day I was attacked by a cricket. Not at first; at first I was just trying to shoo it out the door. It took exception to this, turned to face me, and then came at me, murder in its multifaceted eyes. You may be thinking, "How terrifying can a cricket be?" My answer is: very. This was not a happy little brown cricket, it was an enormous cricket from the crypts of Hell. A little Chinese girl would not keep one in a little wooden box for good luck; she would keep it in a tiger cage and keep a tranquilizer rifle on standby. It was not a cricket that would give sage advice to a puppet through happy songs, unless it had a flagon of mead in one hand and a battle axe in the other.

I kept my head and when the monster leapt between my two giant boxes I sprung forward and slammed the boxes together. And I waited for the thing to throw the box back at me. It didn’t. Eventually I stepped down from "red alert" but I didn’t separate the boxes, just in case it was waiting for me to do so.

When I saw my dad I mentioned this monster cricket. He gave me the fish eye. I demonstrated how big the thing was with my fingers, much like the fisherman describing the fish that got away. I got more of the fish eye. I gave up. Once again, my poor dad was left with the realization that his son was deathly afraid of a little cricket.

Then my dad had the chance to visit my basement. He saw the boxes sitting in the middle of my living area and asked what was up. I said that was where I had trapped the monster cricket. He expressed disbelief so I said I would move a box if he promised to slay the beast should it still be laying in wait. He said he would. He may even have grabbed one of my shoes which has been the scourge of hoards of bugs in the past. I moved the box and a very flat cricket fell over.

Even still, my father was impressed by the size. He hadn’t believed it was quite as large as I said it was. At that time it had been dead for a few days and was flat so he never had a chance to see it in its malevolent glory.

Later, I would look it up on the Internet. I found what is called a "Cave Cricket," a name straight from a Dungeons & Dragons rule book.