8 April 12020 is International Romani Day. I don’t have anything else listed for it, and I’m not up to looking anything up, so I guess I’ll leave it at that. I don’t know why I’m feeling as crappy as I am—I had a good night’s sleep for once. I did have a strange dream—I was wandering in a world of giants, looking through a forest of legs (so to speak), my companion a wisecracking stork-like bird that identified as a goose and insisted upon being addressed as such. We were scrounging food from vendors offering free samples on toothpicks (we had to get up on various objects to reach the table tops) while we tried to find a connecting bus that would take us to a station from which we could catch a bus home. An argument was going on around us about whether “alota” or “lotsa” was the correct word to use in the expression “we got alota (or lotsa) time.” I didn’t think either one was right, but the whole discussion was over my head anyway. My stork-like companion spotted a place where water was pouring from an open pipe and got under it, flapping his wings happily and scattering water-drops everywhere. «I thought we were going home,» I said, or words to that effect. “As far as I’m concerned, I am home,” the goose said blissfully. I woke up—which, I suppose, was the easy way of getting home—but I kind of miss the goose. Or stork, or whatever he was.