Is it Monday already?

  That's a question that used to frequently pass my lips; now at my age it really doesn't matter.  I do keep loose track of what day it is, but mostly they're all the same.
  I have one gripe today, it's another spelling thing.  I read a newspaper article the other day written by a reporter who is said to have a college degree in Journalism.  While describing a crime with a police chase he wrote .."he turned into Cottage Street"..My thought was how horrible!  The man became a street and people were driving over him.  Can anyone turn into a street?  No.  The man turned in to Cottage Street (notice the separation of in and to).  As one word into means to become part of as in ...the cream turned into butter.  Okay?
  Now to my dream last night, which wasn't much different than any other night.  I always 'work' in an office that seem to be populated with a variety of people I've worked with in the past.  Gene Rice, North Dakota Wilbur, people from the City of Brewer and once in a while someone from other duty stations/squadron I've been attached to.  It's always a large and complicated building, 3 or 4 floors tall, no elevators (guess) but front and back stairways.  There are offices, an auditorium/theater, hospital rooms, empty rooms and the dreaded drop offs and dead ends.
  The building is located in a city which looks to be part Oakland, California, Seattle, Washington and Cincinnati, Ohio.  There is a waterfront, a river, and broad streets and narrow streets which all look kind of like places I've been.
  The dreams involve me going up or down stairs, using the wrong stairs (usually a drop off or dead end), turning the wrong way (back of building or front) at the auditorium or hospital.  Sidewalks that are in places that look like I've been there before but can identify, coffee shops and things like that.
  Frequently there is some criminal or spooky part which doesn't involve me directly, but there are people that think I am involved.
  Some times, last night, involved me talking to a very pretty and younger Linda (my wife) about the proper way to cook spareribs (partial boil vs. oven), we weren't married, I was attracted, we were in an empty room with a coffee shop upstairs, it wasn't in the "office" but I had been there.
  The End.

PS.  My left leg is better, no burning, the joints feel "okay" and I won't walk as far today, maybe three miles.