I am setting up a meal. I notice that the glasses are dirty, so I start to wash them in the sink. I clean off dried-on gunk. One cup is pink and collapses like those traveling cups. I turn to Paulina who is already seated at the table and ask if she wants that cup. She says, "No, it is limp and collapses on itself," (like a limp penis). Dwight comes in and says, "Ah, my favorite kind of fudge." "Yeah," I say, "I made it!" I scrape off the dried skin and a pudding, vanilla-like substance is seen. "It's my remoldable kind," I say. I go into my bedroom looking for the table. It's out back. We get it and bring it in. I then shout and try to lock the back bedroom door. It is hard to lock and I feel concerned. I won't feel safe until it's locked. It finally clicks. I go to the dining room. Pancakes and syrup are already on the plates. Dwight says, "I like a picnic." He then comments on the nuns and how they are out in all kinds of weather (rain, sleet hail, snow, and gardening and then they complain because their knees and joints hurt).