Dreams and Forms, But Not Dreaming of Forms

Well, at least today I remem­ber the dreams I had last night, although they weren’t quite night­mares. They were just weird. I know they involved at least two space­ships, but the plumb­ing did­n’t work right on either of them. And some sort of weird off-again, on-again preg­nan­cy. And naughty stuff involv­ing some­one I’ve known for three or four years and nev­er had even the slight­est con­scious thoughts about. And at some point, I dreamed that Sam was sit­ting in the mid­dle of the bath­room with water fill­ing the whole room—all of it—and say­ing that was the only way he could get warm. (He nev­er has a prob­lem get­ting warm, that’s me—he had to take a show­er before com­ing to bed last night to get cool enough, though.)

So, does any­body know a local licensed nurse prac­ti­tion­er, physi­cian’s assis­tant, or doc­tor who could be per­suad­ed to sign off on the girls’ camp phys­i­cal forms for cheap? Because we can­not con­vince the pedi­a­tri­cian to see them to do it. They did it for Katie last year the week before camp, but this year it’s no go. And they leave Sun­day! I think that was before our real pedi­a­tri­cian left the prac­tice, though.