I was sitting next to Bill Gates at a party he was hosting. The patio was covered in flat, light-colored stones and the house behind us was a peach color. We weren't chatting at the time but Ernest Borgnine appears, dressed to the nines with a big red cummerbund across the middle of his tuxedo, and he says five words to Bill Gates. I can't make out what he said but Bill asks him to repeat himself, which Mr. Borgnine does leaving Bill looking a little shaken. I still didn't understand it but I got the gist it was something about Gates's trips to Jeffrey Epstein's island.

In hopes of having my left heel/Achilles tendon heal, I wore my immoblization boot to bed last night. It's unwieldy and makes my body ache but I believe my tendon was being sufficiently stretched to aid in the process. In short: I slept very lightly.

Back alseep, I found myself in another rooming house. Good lord, writing that word makes me think it's 1930 and Our Gang is playing outside. Aside aside, I have a bit of a nicer and bigger room than now and my waking imagination is trying to frame the living situation as it being my house rather than someone else's house. Light gray walls, red trim, and red carpeting which makes me rethink the prior thought since carpets are kinda gross and require a lot of maintenance.
As typical I'm sitting at my computer when I hear my biological father call me. I get up, open the front door and look into the main part of the house only to find it dark and quiet. I call for him, no response, then say "Fuck you I'm not going out here" in a speaking tone.
Back inside either the layout changed or I didn't have a full view of this part of the house. My room was the living room, there was a hallway to a small but serviceable kitchen, and a corridor where everything became red with the red deepening as I went down it. At one intersection to my right I saw many black, electronic devices mounted on pedestals, podiums, and stands to charge. One could barely walk down that area without knocking into or tripping over them. After traversing the 'minefield' I found a thin, young woman sitting crosslegged and leaning over one of her gadgets. I recognized her as an Esperanto-speaking acquaintaince from Twitter who lives in the Netherlands. All of a sudden I didn't want to disturb her but announced, "I have to pee" and went to find a bathroom. I did find one in a hallway where the walls were gray again, but the door into the bathroom was only 5'5" tall. Above the doorjamb was an embroidery of red thread on white cloth spelling out alien characters but I knew it signified this was the men's room.

Friday was all about work. I was given two full searches which were related, same present owner but different properties, and one was an absolute beast to run out while the other was what I expected. There were three notes where I had to chain back to 1932, but two of them went as far back as 1958 because they were out of a developer. Yet another note was just laziness or ignorance on the part of the in-house searcher. They couldn't get behind a fucking deed and decided to throw it to someone in the field. Turns out there was a condo developer who went tits up back in the 1990s and everything about that situation and the people before was heavier than lead. All said and done for Friday I printed out 740 sheets of paper.

Afterwards I checked on the cats, refreshed their water and food, scooped, watered Leah's plants, took a shower, ordered dinner by delivery, and went back to Neptune to round out my evening watching the third season of Umbrella Academy. Just want to say I had a bit of an existential and melancholy moment at Leah's place and needed to leave before it metastatsized.

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