My weekends are a little like ether lately, dreamy, sleepy, and not really all that productive. I keep taking naps and daydreaming or reading. I've done some writing, but I'm not sharp-minded enough to make anything of it until the week rolls around. It's glorious and yet at the same time I feel like there is so much to do that I'm not doing. I take a walk. I eat lunch. I take a nap. Watch music videos on YouTube, read blogs, check facebook. Then later, watch movies and order in dinner. Nothing really gets done like it does during the week when I'm plowing through tasks with a machete. Next week I'll be heading off to Rockford and then Wisconsin (then Rockford again for the 4th). Everything is mid air at the moment (personal stuff, writing related stuff, projects both my own and other people's books) and it's a little maddening. I am waiting for things to land, good or bad so I can get on with it. Last night, I dreamed that I was living in other people's houses while they were away, sleeping in their beds, reading their books, living their lives only to slip away trying not to leave any trace that I had been there. I kept packing and re-packing my own belongings, finding a used teacup, or strands of hair in the brush, a CD left out of it's case. It was a Goldilocks dream, only without any bears.