Swimming

Wake up from extremely disturbing dream involving Tom DeLay--he didn't do anything except grin like in mugshot--but feel that must go swimming to cleanse self. Hunt for Speedo. Not in (still broken) dresser or in closet as far as can tell. Recruit Dave to help with search. Jenny sniffs around in closet too. Tosses her head around playfully. Becomes very interested in something at back of closet and am briefly very afraid that has caught the scent of rodent. Pushes her way to back of closet and comes back with very very musty Speedo. Dave says that Things shouldn't go into the closet Wet, which think is highly unhelpful and unsupportive. Say in sarcastic way, Thanks for your help. Sharp words exchanged. We apologize and begin search for combination lock--much more successful. (Though have moment when can't remember combination. Fortunately, fingers remember what brain does not. Brain rarely remembers what is required of it, instead grasping on to office fedex number, which am certain will carry to grave.) Go to Paragon sports before arriving at pool. Paycheck has gone through this morning, mitigating the crisis of the bounced check, and am though able to purchase new speedo, which is very expensive for what it is--extremely small piece of black spandex--feel ashamed of self for spending money and for buying speedo, which, outside context of pool, looks sordid to the extreme.