egg rinds

I moved some boxes out of the garage (where they have sat for two years) and found some books inside. Yesterday I finished reading The Spirit Ring (1992), the first non-Barrayar novel by Lois McMaster Bujold. I don’t know why I bounced off it the first time; it’s quite good. [Later: Indeed I liked it better than her second non-Barrayar novel, The Curse of Chalion.] Then I started Monument (1974) by Lloyd Biggle; I dimly remember reading it long ago but probably the short version (1961).

I dreamed that my housemate told me I stink of “egg rinds”. I woke and asked her whether that meant anything, and she expressed incomprehension. Then I woke from that epi-dream and asked her again, with the same result. Eventually I woke from the epi-epi-dream into the level of reality in which I’m writing this, and we shared a chuckle.

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