Dream fragment:

I am in a group of about four people, having a picnic in a very narrow valley. One of the people I am with is my fiancé.

Him: I really like this place. I could stay here.

Me: Me, too.

Him: His eyes harden with something like annoyance or irritation. You need to hurry up and decide!

Me: I just did! Fuck off! I get up and start to walk off, and he jumps up and follows me. I slap him, hard. Weren't you listening? FUCK! OFF! Don't you understand I need to be alone?

The valley turns into an auditorium, and I run up the stairs to the very top.

I woke up with my heart pounding from anger and exertion.

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Yesterday as I was puttering around the house, I had a sudden flash of an idea of what I could write about today. But, of course, I have forgotten it.

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I like peanut butter. It's one of my favorite foods. Too bad it's so bad for me. I learned to love peanut butter from my father, who is probably peanut butter's biggest fan. Because of my dad, I've discovered a number of very peculiar ways to eat peanut butter:

• PB on toast (or toasted, which is even better.)
• PB and pickle sandwich
• PB and tomato sandwich
• PB and cheese sandwich
• on hot dogs
• on spaghetti, mixed with tomato sauce
• in chili

Of course, I'm assuming that PB-and-jelly and PB-and-banana are considered relatively normal. When I was little, my grandmother used to make peanut butter and butter sandwiches. Talk about bad for me! But they were so good. One of the people I eat lunch with, Elizabeth, eats peanut butter and cream cheese sandwiches, which I've never tried but sounds divine. I have a recipe for peanut butter pie in which you mix peanut butter with cream cheese, whipped cream, and sugar for the filling.

But my favorite way to eat it is plain, on a spoon.

Yeah, I'm a freak.

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Matt mentioned yesterday in passing that he thought it was weird of me to list Monday first on my calendar. I mentioned that I'd bought real calendars that organized the week that way, and he insisted that he's never seen one. (I guess he wasn't counting weekly appointment calendars, which are almost always arranged that way.) I knew that listing Monday first was a little peculiar, but he made it sound like it was not only weird, but wrong, and I got sortof defensive about it. I'm even tempted to explain my reasons here, but I'm pretty sure that any thinking individual can come up with at least two of the three reasons, so I'll restrain myself. I just thought it was odd that I got so tense about it. I was irritable for at least half an hour after the subject had been dropped.

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Oh, well. I can't remember my brilliant topic for this morning, so I'm going to go have some breakfast.