One Lump or Two...?

The message on the voicemail said -- "I know that we are halfway through the project, we have to stop -- however. You can thank the Oppenheimer fund for pulling the rug out from under us. The train passed us by while our eyes were closed and although I am the brother of the owner -- I am telling you that it is over. We just can't recover from this and are moving all the inventory to the van. Once that wave hits -- only Bernie is safe in jail. Also, we heard that the logo caused the IRS to lose your dog in the filing process—is there anyway we can go into a payment plan?"

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The phone rang and I was instantly afraid... "I'm just calling to tell you", she whispered in a sad tone -- "someone else finished the project for you. I know, it is our fault that we let it hang in an uncompleted phase for a few months.. but someone showed us the finished product this morning so we are driving up to Maine and setting up camp. We do need your car though because we can't fit anymore pumpkins in ours. We know the recipe calls for doughnuts, but we bought the pizza with the great new design—made with real vegetables... the allergist complies. Can we tee off at noon?"

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Dreams—they can cause certifiable anxiety.
Coffee anyone?