Hypertrophic sense of well-being.

Last night/morning I had a really good, heart-lifting dream. Well, it was good up to a point, and then it became so weird that I refuse to talk about it (for now, most likely- knowing me, I'll end up drunk one night, talking about dreams with the right person, and beans will be spilled). Weirdness gave way to disappointment, because the time came in the dream when I knew that it was ending, and I didn't want it to. All I wanted to do was keep hanging out with Niddah, but others got in the way and ushered me out of the Dreamlands and back to paltry reality.

I received- almost a year after the fact- my one-year anniversary name plaque at work. As requested, they inscribed (read: screened- it wasn't even fuckin' engraved) it "D.A. Smith." Unlike everyone else who's been there long enough to receive one, I didn't put mine on my desk or atop my monitor, but took it home in anticipation of the day that I have another office and will be able to announce myself to visitors with a chunk of wood and brass facing the door.

The weekend: so far, so good. Hung out with Dave after work, been drinkin' Schlitz, and am looking forward to attending the inaugural game of Houston's brand-new football (er, soccer) team, Dynamo, on Sunday. I find it highly amusing that my city named its football team after the premiere FC of Moscow, but what the hell. It's good to have a sport in town that I actually enjoy. A bunch of my best friends will be coming along with me, since I scored free tickets from work, so it will be a blast... unless it's a 0-0 draw or something equally unspectacular. In that case, I'm tempted to incite hooligan-style violence. I may have one spare ticket available, but I'm waiting to hear back from someone before I can say for sure; when I find out, I will spread the word. If you want to go to the match, do it! Cheap tickets are $12-15, and you're bound to have a good time. It's at 6:30 at Robertson Stadium, on the UH campus. Support your local football (uh, soccer- sorry, I prefer "football," as that's what EVERYONE ELSE IN THE WORLD CALLS IT, and I picked up the term living in Venezuela) club!

I fear that I will have to go to war with the United States Postal Service tomorrow, seeing as how I haven't received any mail in my name in the past two weeks, and I've been expecting some important stuff. Son of a bitch.