I wrote this about a month ago because I didn’t want to forget it and it seemed worth writing about at the time.

I just wasn’t sure when the right time would be to post it.

I guess now is as good a time as ever, since everything’s submitted.

We have a high school senior this year.

That means we have to go through all of the high school senior and graduation stuff over the next few months (I guess it’s like four months. On January 31 I told my daughters it was the exact halfway point of ‘months they’d spend in school’ - September through January, and then February through June are the same spans. But the senior mentioned it’s less for her - she’s already past that point, since things wrap up at the end of May for her.) ….

…and currently have to deal with all of the applications and associated forms and all.

Our daughter is amazingly independent with it all and we haven’t had to worry about much and that’s all I’ll say about it all because that’s probably more than she wants me to say at all about it.

But I will tell you that the big thing we were responsible for as parents was the FAFSA form, which we (by we, I mostly mean Kathy) recently filled out and I guess I’m just nervous about messing up the one thing we’re responsible for in this whole process.

(I did a poor job with my college application stuff back in 1995/1996. My daughters amaze me with how much more capable they are at their ages than I ever was.)

Anyway, all of this is to say that after we filed the FAFSA I had a terrible anxiety dream. I know it’s not exciting to read other people’s dreams but, listen, I need 365 days of content and this was somewhat interesting and NO ONE IS FORCING YOU TO READ THIS SO LAY OFF.

But I thought this was interesting enough to write about quickly and let you do the analysis:

I was in New York City and I was meeting a friend at a museum and we hung out for a bit and then I left the museum - where I weirdly ran into another friend I hadn’t seen in a long time - and when I turned back to go to the museum I realized my bank card was missing. I must have dropped it.

I retraced my steps, searching the floor, and some guy told me he saw a card a little further back. (I must have been obviously looking for something on the ground.) I went, found it, but it was only half the card with the chip and account number cut off, and when I turned it over to look for the information about reporting fraud, that was on the part that was cut off, so I couldn’t do anything.

Then I woke up and it was 4:30am and I thought I might just stay awake (this was a Sunday morning), and closed my eyes and next thing I knew the dog was in my face because it was 7am and I needed to feed her.

What a ride, huh?