Ah, wilderness. Spent the weekend camping in Killbear Provincial Park with good friends, and proceeded to watch, very early Saturday morning, as my tent walls went nearly transparent in the middle of an unholy lightning storm, and the walls bowed inward as somebody mischievous apparently turned a firehose on us. I was told later that was just the rain, but little in my experience has prepared me to believe that much water can fall from the sky.
The next night the temperature dropped substantially and I buried myself in my sleeping bag. Oddly, I woke up very early on Sunday feeling fine, until I changed out of pants in to shorts. (This was a mistake.) It didn't occur to me until later that maybe waking up at 7 was unnecessary on a weekend, but then later at home, 10PM rolled around and I basically passed out. Vicki woke me up a bit later, and we proceeded to have a really odd conversation:
V: Where are the car keys?
J: Umm... my brain isn't working.
V: (Slowly) Where. Are. The. Keys.
J: The AIs wanted the back yard. I said no. [Seriously.]
V: Uh, go back to sleep.
Clearly, the lesson is my mouth and brain aren't connected really well while I'm sleeping. But what prompted my strange, near-hallucinatory utterance? That, at least, has a relatively easy answer: I've been reading David Marusek's Counting Heads, a really excellent SF novel about nanotechnology, sentient computers, interstellar colonization, and a bunch of other things. The book clearly stuck with me when I went to sleep. As, apparently, did my concerns over the back yard. [?]
I'm almost done Counting Heads, and then I move on to the sequel, Mind Over Ship. I have enjoyed CH so much I can barely wait to get to the next one.