Dreams and driving and loudness

Well, here it is, the end of March, and I feel like time has blown by without my paying attention. Seems like last summer was about three weeks ago, and my divorce was an eternity ago. Odd how that works out. I had a strange set of dreams last night, one of which involved lots of cats in Lewisburg, Pennsylvania (a town I drive through along US15 when going to visit my parents in New York), and the other involving Melody, though I don't remember a lot about it.

Oh, wait... no, in this dream, she was trying to call me to see if I wanted to be friends, but we kept missing connections and left increasingly-cryptic voicemails for each other until I woke up. We never ended up reconciling to friends. Odd, considering I'd have been perfectly happy with that, she just didn't see to want to do it.

That's over and done.

Suzanne woke me up way early for an appointment, and I got to re-experience why I don't like driving in to work early (before 9:30). People at earlier hours drive fast, and drive distractedly and offhandedly. This crowd includes the my-time-is-too-valuable-to-waste-driving-only-80 construction-crew trucks. Contractors can be the worst drivers, because they're always driving way too fast in trucks that are much larger than anybody else, and half the time they're on the phone. Fortunately, they seem to get to their jobsites by 8 and are not a problem thereafter.

We went to a place over West Virginia to get dinner, but dinner was sort of hosed by an unexpected band. Nobody has bands on Tuesday night, but this place did... a band that purported to be a bluegrass band but could better be termed "old-time country," like 1920s and 1930s. Not bluegrass. And way too loud. I gave up trying to talk to Suzanne after the band started. Couldn't hear or be heard.

Attention, bands: do not assume everyone in a place is there to hear you. For some people, you are both a surprise and possibly an annoyance, not an asset. Keep that in mind when you reach for your amplifiers.