Monday morning drama

After too much turning over and ignoring the clock, I force myself out of bed. I have woken from a dream where I am living, and I think working, in an old people's home. The old people are being abused and one is murdered, and I am sneaking around trying to find out what's happening and why and bring the murderers to justice. It is sort of exciting but also gut-twistingly frightening. I have NO IDEA why I dreamed this.

I am in the bathroom, washing my hands, when out of the corner of my eye I see a bird flying around in my living room. I look again, squinting without my glasses. There is a bird flying around my house. I close doors and open windows. It is a very lovely little bird, a sparrow or something very like one, but I do not think my house is the best habitat for it. I pursue it with my camera. It flies away.

I am in the shower. I remember with a spasm of horror that applications for a job I really want to apply for close today at 4pm - 10am Mexican time. I switch on my computer, wondering if I can complete a job application in 45 minutes (note: of course not). I see that the closing date is in fact the 30th, and another job which does close today doesn't have a time specified. My insides untie themselves.

I am walking down the stairs, and I see the handyman (who otherwise I hardly ever see). We have a little chat, during which it emerges that, whilst I am otherwise happy in my apartment, the rain is leaking through my ceiling again. He tells me he will fix it if I show him where. I seize the opportunity, even though the lateness of the hour is tying my insides up again.

On my way to work at last I watch my town going past in all its everyday, ugly, scruffy, glorious beauty. A boy is buying tortillas at a tortilleria, just tall enough to see over the counter. All at once it doesn't seem to matter how late I am for work.