Man vänjer sig.

More weird dreams tonight: I somehow ended up in Buffy season 8. What with the sudden lack of a Sunnydale, the whole show had relocated to Stockholm (don't ask me why, it probably seemed like a good idea at the time). The funny thing is that I was not involved in the production, but in the plot. My role, I'm afraid, was not that of a Marty Stu — quite the opposite, in fact, as I just got in the way and pissed everyone off; even the vamps wanted nothing to do with me and weren't even interested in me as food, not for a big clock. I never found out exactly where the Hellmouth was located, but I suspect it's somewhere in Gallerian, which would explain a lot.

Maybe I should watch something else for a while. It is safe to say, though, that if a TV show starts figuring in my dreams, it has made quite an impression on me.

Back at my desk to fight the usual fight. I could have used another week, but I still feel rather OK after three well-deserved weeks off (even if I just wrote "credit card" as "cretin card"). I don't have the time right now to write a detailed report of my doings, but here is a brief summary:

( ...which turned out slightly longish anyway, hence the cut. )