Something Is Seriously Wrong Here

Originally Published 6/7/05

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit I yell as soon as I open my eyes and see the red digital numbers "6:44" on the clock...."Shit, shit, shit, shit" I mutter while searching frantically for some clothes to put on. Terry kept saying "what? Talk to me!" etc. I literally could not speak any word at all except shit. He said "you took my shirt".

He was supposed to get me up when HE got up, at 5am. Oh, shit shit shit shit shit. He says I never told him any such thing.

I ran down the stairs in a tshirt and sweatpants braless, grabbed my keys. My mouth, eyes and brain were still not functioning. Terry's truck was parked behind me and I couldn't get out of the driveway. My heart was racing and I was sweating in 90% humidity already.

Oh, shit shit shit shit shit.

30 minutes later I am pulling into my second Waffle House searching searching for her minivan. I drive over to the gas station and buy some Winstons.

I call Billy on my cell phone which I finally located at the bottom of my purse, nearly dead battery. Just then I see a white minivan pull out of the McDonald's across the street and tell him I think I see her, gotta go, if she calls tell her to call me.

I will tell you about it later if I can ever get my daughter to speak to me and make it up to her somehow. I hate myself too much to even write this now.

P.S.: Maybe I need a little dose of trepanation. Ugh!