Six months.

Six months ago today, I was somewhere near Tennessee.  We ended up staying overnight in Mississippi after one of the most terrifying “Oh crap, my car!” experiences, where my car wouldn’t go.  On a highway.  I pressed the pedal and, uh, that was about it.  My dad was yelling at me as my phone rang, telling me not to answer it when LAboy just wanted to help.

Oh, yeah, my dad – he has this thing where he makes me cry.  Often.  He just doesn’t understand me; and I know that’s such a typical teenager thing to say (even though I’m almost a decade past that *gulp*), but we had little contact when I was growing up (his “choice;” he seemed to feel that he was “bothering” me if he came to visit.  I was 11, ya’ll.) and he isn’t sure how to deal with an “adult” me.

It doesn’t help that I’m not always an “adult” me. (See: dissociation)

Either way, my pupper and I wandered around and she barked all night in a hotel.  That was fun.  Six months ago tomorrow it’ll be the last leg of the journey… the one where my car REALLY broke down.

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