I'm trying to remember this while it's still a few hours fresh in my mind, but it's not working very well...........

I acted before I realized what I was looking at. I had my foot slammed down on the breaks harder than I think I've ever done before.
Next thing I knew, the guy was rolling off the hood of my car. After I slammed the car into park, removed the seatbelt (and apparently took the keys out of the ignition for some reason), I could remember seeing a shadow come dashing out from behind a car in the right lane.
I'm sure I said something like, "oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit," as I got out of my car.
The guy was already up, and walking away. I think I said something like, "oh my god. I am so sorry. Are you ok?" You know, the usual stuff.
He appologized, said it was his fault, and tried to get away from me.
Some woman was on the side of the road yelling that he'd dropped a glove. I don't know, I would think calling for an ambulance might have made more sense.
I had to force the guy to take my business card, in case he decided a doctor should be seen, but he seemed very reluctant to do so. And then he just left....

I think I was more stunned by this than the guy. I think I'm still shaken, and it was hours ago. It's one thing to slam into a car... but to slam into a person is very unnerving, even if they don't want any help.

I'm soooooo tired tonight.
My department is moving to the big corporate building. Oops, can't call it that, it's the "field support center" now. Even though there's virtually no field support from that building. Almost all field support comes from St. Louis.

Anyway, we were told in November we were moving. Deadline date set for the end of November... then the end of December... then... no one knows.
Finally the boss said, "we must move by February 13th otherwise we'll be royally hosed when we start doing 2005 stuff." I'm paraphrasing, of course.
So, last Friday, we go the word... a 60% chance we would be moving over Superbowl weekend. Yesterday it was up to 75%, and now it's a whopping 95% chance. Considering it's just 3 days away, I shouldn't think it's too much to ask for 100% chance.

So today it was my job to pack up the store room. The storeroom consists of unimprinted catalogs and flyers... lots of them. And no, unimprinted isn't completely blank, just without company logo's or text, kept for when people say, "oh my God! We need 100 copies of your 2004 Calender Selection Guide RIGHT NOW!" And there's no time to get them imprinted.
Well, let me tell you... this was a lot of fun for me. I love doing all that physical work stuff. But this took me the entire afternoon, and I was ready to drop by 5 o'clock.

It was hard for me to go do my "talkie thing" after work. But then it will always be hard.

It's only 8:45 now, and I'm ready for bed. Being tired sucks. I wanted to write more, but I just don't have it in me... sorry.

Here's a converation you never want to hear by your parents:

Mom: We'll be back by 11 unless we get lucky.
Dad: We aren't going to get lucky.
Mom: Well, we might.
Dad: No.

They were talking about gambling, but it's still disturbing to me.

Well, after all the trials and tribulations of dealing with major debt (ok, it's not that major, but it's stopping me from buying a place), tomorrow I will be sending the final payment in for bill #2.
This leaves just one more bill to get paid off before I start saving money to buy a place. And that, I expect, will be done by April.
There's one more, actually, but it's quite big, and I figure at least two years to pay it off, and I don't want to stay in my parents haunted house any longer than I have to.
I won't be saving much, really.. but every little bit helps.
The tiny little condo Debbie and I bought had only a down payment of $3000. We wanted to put more in, but it was pointed out that each $1000 only dropped the monthly payment by $1, so we decided not to, and refinance later, etc... of course, that never happened.

I figure I might have $3000 this time next year, not very likely though. But by then I'll be much closer to owning a home of my own than I am now, and that's pretty darned exciting!

Oh, and yes, I did do a jig when I wrote that check out. A very long and happy jig.

I've been writing more lately.
Remember my story about Tabitha a while back? Well, lately I've been trying to continue that story. It's very hard because when I wrote it, I'd had several hours to think about it before putting it on paper (err... on screen, I guess). Now I'm just trying to write.
Yes, I'm putting thought into it, but I don't think it's coming out the same way.
I liked the first part that I put up here, but I'm not so sure about the rest.

I'm leary about putting more up here, because... hey, if it's good, I might want to get it published. And if it's bad, I'll be scorned and ridiculed (or worse, I'll be told it's good because people don't want to hurt my already fragile feelings).

Well, two hours of writing tonight only brought me up to 3200 words and I'm done for the night... there's still a long way to go in this story, and it's only just beginning.

I remember long, long ago... I must have been in 4th, 5th or 6th grade. I was one of those kids who played little league baseball, but didn't really want to. Well, I did want to, but then I realized it was something that I couldn't just do when I felt like it, so I stopped wanting to.
But... I went to all the practices, and all the games. And I never had any fun with it. I liked playing baseball with the neighborhood kids, but this had rules! And lots of them. That was no fun for me (and just between you and I, I wasn't very good at it).

Anyway... I remember one sunny weekend day, I was outside playing with Kenny Thomas and his Richochet Racers (sadly, couldn't find any good websites for them, but they were Matchbox-type cars that you shot out of a gun, very fun for kids).
My father called me in and insisted that he took me to a batting cage. I really didn't want to go, partly because I really hated playing baseball, and partly because I really liked those Richochet Racers.
So, I expressed my unwillingness to practice baseball. My father got very irate, and threw (or pushed, or shoved, or...) me against the wall. What I remember is him holding me by my neck, with my feet off the ground. I'm not sure how accurate that is, but I really wouldn't put it past him. It took place in the foyer of the house, which had this horrid cheap-plastic-imitation-embossed-wood-like-panelling. And I remember the crinkling of that plastic in my ears drowning out his angry voice.
I remember being driven to the batting cage place, crying the whole way. Not because I didn't want to go, but because I was sure he was going to do something like that again.
When we got there, the place was closed for some reason. I silently called my father all sorts of names that weren't very nice. And in the end, I went back over to Kenny's house to shoot metal cars out of plastic guns.

Aside from this week, I wonder when was the last time I thought of that...

So, I've been sick for about a week now.
Last Monday I woke up with a sore throat, and by the time I left work I was miserable. Called in sick on Tuesday. Felt good enough on Wednesday to go out, Thursday was pretty good until about 10AM, when I just wanted to roll over and die.
Everyone at work tried to get me to go home, but you know how stubburn I can be... and leaving going home early is no fun anyway. Almost died several times coming home from work, I couldn't concentrate on driving.
Friday I called in sick, slept off and on all day. Felt like crap Saturday, but went out anyway, just to get away from the house, came home quite early for fear of falling asleep on the drive home.
Then there's today, I am soooo tired. Everything feels better than it has since Monday, still remnants of a cold, though.

But I'm just soooo tired. Why didn't I become a doctor, so I can cure a common cold? At least it gives me time to thnk, even if it isn't really clear what I'm thinking about.

It's time.
I've finally decided to find out what exactly happened over half my lifetime ago.
It's not going to be easy, but I think I'm ready.