(Yes, it’s the name of a character.  What are you going to do about it, tough guy.)

I’m going to upgrade today.  I’m one click away.  I’m going to do it and something awful will happen, please forgive me when it does.

Update:  Well, I did it and you’ll see I have many more “A”s … in the coming weeks, months and years I will delete them.  Ugh.

… Two nights in a row now I’ve had a dream where I try to stick a huge disk-shaped thing in my eye. I’m bent over a sink struggling — it goes on and on and on — to put a giant frisbee in my eye like a contact.

The first night the contact was gray and opaque like the Dish Network dish. Last night it was clear with pointy things on one side and in last night’s dream there was a subplot. G.’s friend’s mom was at the door asking to take G. to a fair … ponies, rides, cotton candy. A. answered the door, said “Sure,” and sent G. right out. There was a table of people he was busy with in the kitchen, so he was brisk about it, to get back to them.

I was in a back room with the giant contact and could hear what was going on but couldn’t move until I got the contact in. I was trying desperately to force it in my eye so I could run out and fix everything because I was upset A. didn’t give the friend’s mom five dollars. (It was very specifically five). I considered it a grave faux pas, so when I did get the pointy contact in I ran after her (stopping first to glare at A.) and gave her five dollars.

I think it’s the carpet.

Jung would have said I’m having a conflict with A. However A. was not in the first dream and that doesn’t explain the recurring contact lens. Perhaps I’m having a conflict with my eye. I do get tired of sticking something in it each day, I do.

Freud would say the big contact was my vagina and that the eye represents my desire to see my vagina and that the vagina is big because it looms large in my eye. Which does not explain the $5 or who all those people were in the kitchen with A.

My friend Eric would say, “You gotta make a big effort to get out and do shit or you’ll start to hole up in your cabin and get all wiggly. I know you.” And I’d say, “awwwww … he knows me.”

I was thinking about that today, I know you … aren’t those three of the sweetest words in a row? Three of the sweetest words you can say to someone, I think … I know you. Maybe that’s what I was trying to say about Bill.

It’s normal to be freaked out by a new house, so I’m not worried about it. I’m very calmly letting the things freak me out. Like the air, for instance. The air is dry, and hot or cold, and brittle. It isn’t comfortable; it’s uncomfortable air. In the summer it will be fine. The carpet is still a problem and will continue to be until it’s burned down to the ground into small flakes of ash.

The bed that felt fine in the old house is uncomfortable here and the dining room table is too big. It swallows the room, making the bordering rooms look lost. But mostly, I think, it’s the carpet. And the kitchen. Oh, and I’m pretty sure someone’s lurking around outside in the back with a large scythe. I see the shadow.

Unrelated: Tomorrow is G.’s Christmas program, she’s an angel. No speaking lines, just songs. And my Christmas letter is all done, send me SASEs. You can also order archived copies here, way back to 2000. (If you act now I’ll send you the uncensored version ’06, with the line about dinner plates.)

Happy Wednesday.