It’s not so much that I had to spend a few hours at the hospital yesterday following a soccer practice – no worries, I’m fine – or the fact that I’m on some antibiotics as the fact that I was having a very strange, but rather aesthetically pleasing dream about driving a minitrain to a friend’s house through the snow to the strains of Celtic music that make me question the wisdom of doing a lot of posting over the next day or two.
Who wraps their Christmas presents in blue wrapping paper with red-and-green tartan ribbons lined in gold? And what was the significance of the little mouse riding on the minitrain? Why were the presents in the very large medieval fireplace instead of under the tree? And how was I controlling the speed of the train when there were only two buttons that let me switch lanes to pass the cars in the tunnels?
I did score four goals after two weeks of being shut out, though, so it’s all good. The full volley on the rebound from a teammate’s shot was particularly nice.