I was kidding! I was kidding!

Last night, I had an absurd anxiety dream. I dreamt I was sitting at the reference desk, and there were problems with the printers and copiers (as there invariably are -- every day something freaks out and stops working). So this one girl stands up and says, "Until you librarians get your act together, I'm not going to answer any more questions."
So I say, "What about this one..."
Everyone turns and looks at me. I stand up and leave the reference desk, approaching the girl. Inwardly, I am panicking, because I have absolutely no witty comeback for this little twit.
I come up close to her and say, "Why don't you leave the library?"
The girl huffs and starts to leave, so I clap my hands on her shoulders and say, in the friendliest way possible, "I was kidding--I was kidding!" She turns and leaves anyway.
I was totally flattened. Not only was my comeback lame, but I apologized for it, and I was right next to all the first floor librarians' offices. They saw my utter lack of both creativity and resolve. I spent the rest of my dream feeling stupid and worrying about having said this to this student. Then I woke up and, with relief, realized it was not real. Whew! What a nightmare. Revealing my true colors to the world!

***

Tonight, or maybe tomorrow night, I go for a trial run at my apartment. Trial run, meaning I really have very little furniture over there, so it will probably take me some time to get everything I need into place. Add to that the fact that I still haven't gotten a car, which I may do tomorrow after work if possible.
I may party (or rather, "party") with D and C this weekend, as it is the last time we will see Curran before he heads for Tikrit (or thereabouts).
Good thing my mother separated all my alcohol from the house alcohol and packed it in a paper bag for me to bring to my apartment. In the bag: one large bottle of Mezcal, complete with worm; an oblong bottle of tequila, Silver Patron, very smooth; one large bottle of Bacardi; two miniature (plastic) promo bottles of Mezcal.

... Why? Why is everything that is mine so vomit-inducing? What I should say is, Why does everything I drink turn to vomit?