Dream the impossible dream

I let myself sleep in today; the wife has come down with the flu and I'm fighting it off. Apparently the shots this year weren't formulated for the strains hitting the U.S.

The cat woke me from a pleasant dream this morning (he was being his usual nocturnal buttheaded self, which requires getting up and spraying him with vinegar water).

I was playing for the Giants. As a Major League ballplayer. Granted, my subconscious wouldn't let me be a star player - I was a bench utility guy making league minimum and probably in my last year (of only three or so). But still: a professional ballplayer.

Sigh.

What I'm reading: Elizabeth Moon, Victory Conditions