Lost in a Dream

Lately, I have been playing a lot of beach volleyball and running away from monsters in the middle of the night. I tell the cute doctor that he's an asshole and wake-up right before something really scary happens in the jungle.

During my run-in with a sinus infection a few weeks ago, I found that 'Lost' re-runs helped to pass the time. At that point I blamed the dreams on the ny-quil and fever, but for awhile now, I have been at a healthy 98 and mostly sober when I finally do fall asleep. Since I've run through the past three seasons in less than three weeks, I need to think long and hard about the next show I pick as my nightly recess.

I'm fairly sure that I will miss the beach sports and howling clouds of smoke, because work these days generally leads to dreams of me sitting around making an 8:30 reservation for a party of two at Le Bernardin. During my brief career as a payroll accountant, I would wake-up in a cold sweat reciting invoice numbers, frantically checking my phone to make sure I had the correct sequence in my handheld computer.

Perhaps I should just renew my mlb.com membership and spend all of my free time fielding grounders with Davey and Scott in Toronto. If I'm lucky, Daniel Boulud and Jin Kwon will stop by to cheer us on.