(no subject)

I dreamed about a place that was Greece and Italy and Morocco all wrapped up in one, and about Gene taking pictures and walking with me. It was the happiest, most pleasant dream I've had in a while.

RIght now it's 29 degrees and raining. I so do not want to go to work.

ice storm

Some days.

I was driving slow, but not slow enough I guess. My windshield had started icing over already in the rain, and I was on 183, heading south. On the ramp arcing over to Mopac, which I never should have taken, stupid stupid stupid girl. The car slid suddenly out of my grasp, and I bounced off one side of the ramp and then the other. I honestly thought I was going to die, going to flip the Ford Explorer over the edge and plunge down onto the freeway below. It was so clear, and so frightening, and straight out of my childhood nightmares about driving and ramps and big cars and dear god I was so fucking scared. I skidded through the entire curve, and only when I hit the downslope to the access road was I able to get control of the car again.

I took several deep breaths, and I might have screamed once in the silent haven of my car. At work I broke down into shaking sobs, and someone pressed their cup into my hand and made me get some coffee. My supervisor let me go home, because I was mortally afraid of being stuck there. So I went home, half an hour for a ten minute drive, stopping and starting on the access roads and the smaller streets packed with people trying to escape the ice. It's coming down hard out there now, and I went to the apartment instead of my mother's house.

So I'm going to make myself a drink, and cry a little for being so damn stupid and lucky, and make sure Gene and Melynda get home safely.

(no subject)

Gene says to me, "No more near death experiences. I don't think I can handle this becoming a daily thing." He's right. Two in less than 24 hours is a bit much for anyone. No more Doritos, or overpasses for me.