I am given a task of teaching. I must prepare a series of questions and so on as I will moderate or facilitate a panel discussion on topics given me by my woman boss. It's a big job. I set to work reading the questions and trying to come up with answers so I know the subjects. She comes in and says, "We need to do it now." I'm not ready, but I gamely say I can do it. I kinda think maybe I can manage it. I need to go to the bathroom. We're sort of in the old M City house. I go upstairs and step into a tiny bathroom at the top of the stairs (which never existed in the real M City house). The toilet is broken. There is no seat; it is blue and chipped and not too clean. I remember there is the regular bathroom downstairs at the foot of the stairs and decide to go where it is more comfortable. I kind of peek into the door of the bedroom that used to be my parents'. I don't see much. I go back downstairs. I see a very high step where one of the steps had been removed, probably the one that squeaked and was cracked when I lived there. It's hard to make the step, but I do. I knock on the bathroom door. A woman opens the door and is showing me creams and things for the face, like I was a teen and she was showing me the right way to do makeup. She takes a huge glob of Vaseline in one hand and a huge glob of lotion in the other and mixes them together, all the while lecturing me how oil and water don't mix and this will be very bad to do on the face. I think this is a waste of lots of material, because she uses so much. I leave, not buying anything, feeling a bit guilty as she wasted so much to show me. I go into the kitchen, and pick up my papers. I need to buy stamps now for the teaching job I'm about to do. I buy them from the woman of the lotions. I go into the other room and ask my woman boss did she pay the woman for the stamps? The boss says, "No, you need to do that, but I can partially reimburse you later." What a nuisance, but I return to pay her I ask her how much I owe. She figures for a while and then says 140 dollars. I am shocked that is much more than I thought it was worth. I am frustrated, but feel I must pay it, but resent it. I start to take out the money and first give her some coins -- quarters, pennies, a half dollar coin. I ask how much I've given her so far. She says, "You're one point short." I am annoyed. What does that mean? I ask shortly, "Does that mean 99 cents?" She sighs at me, exasperated. "98 cents," she says, like I should know that. I've got a long way to go to make 140 dollars. I pull out the cash, and lay out the full amount, not liking doing this.