13somethingstupidgoddambrokenscale.
Driving through the industrial district, all radio stations on commercials. I haven't seen any bugs in California, and realized this is because they are all splattered across my windshield. Peered through gutty yellow haze at lazily pumping oil wells, reaching blindly for a CD and popping one in to cover the radio advertisements. Aerosmith. Cat Stevens. Nickelback. Oh no. Last summer's mix disc of heartbreak Slapped stereo, grabbed disc, sent it sailing like a flashing silver frisbee out the window into a dusty oil field. Felt much better.
Morning not off to great start. One of my online friends is having marriage problems, which caused me to feel a fresh spurt of wounded anger and prompted me to take back my spare house key. Feeling sad in the car on the way to daycare, I looked out window at stop light to see the gruesome body of a dead cat beside us on the road. Whipped around and turned Gavin's head, too late to prevent the wide-eyed stare of horror at the small crushed form. And I punched a hole through my sandwich with my heel. Dropped off troubled child and arrived at work an hour early. Mondays.
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