December 14th, 2018.

A horrible dream last night. Band practice, everyone gathered in the Living room and then a flash of light. We knew it was Washington DC that had been nuked and we knew we probably had about a minute to get secure. We pressed our backs to the south-facing wall, some of us raced to the basement and within moments the windows facing south blew in with a ferocious gout of hot air like we’d left the oven open. Sharif handed me an extra gun, double checking that I remembered how to chamber a round and then we went around the house securing the doors and other windows. We pushed the dining room table up against the windows and nailed it in place, we pushed the washer and dryer up against the basement door, checked to make sure that none of the brush in the yard was on fire and then settled in with a radio trying to find out what had happened.

We were praying that Trump had died in the blast, sure that whatever response America was going to field it would be a lot saner without him. 

I woke up thinking about water. Whether I should have spare water in the basement. How it should be stored. How it should be dispensed. I woke up thinking about radiation sickness and cancer and slow death versus a quick demise and about whether or not it was time to arm myself. The difference in the world if Washington was nuked by a suitcase bomb or an ICBM. Who it could be with the former, how it narrowed down the suspects with the latter. 

I’m glad to be awake.

I’m glad to be alive.

I wonder if I would be glad about either of those things if that dream came to pass.

TGIF?

On an entirely different note, here’s pics from this week’s Ho Ho Happy Hour open mic, which is way more fun that it ought to be and FINALLY picked up steam this week – Thursday, December 13th.