Drunk.

Today, at 9:38 this morning, while I was shopping for my groceries, my dad called from an ambulance.

Some jerk, drunk as a skunk at 9 am on a Sunday morning, blew through a red light and very nearly killed my daddy.

Somehow Dad walked away from it. Black and blue from the seat belt and the airbag, and only slightly cut up. His new truck is beyond repair. Dad, as usual, was totally stoic and calm.

I hope with everything I have to hope with that the other guy is seriously injured, that this ruins his career, tears apart his family, and leaves his life in tatters. That probably makes me a bad person, but really, I'm okay with that.

People shouldn't be able to hurt my dad. That should be somehow against the rules.



I wrote a much longer, and far more eloquent post on the subject earlier, but decided against posting it. I'm still not sure why. But this one seems appropriate somehow.


The day took the wind out of me. I'm emotionally exhausted and I've spent the whole of the day sleeping on the couch. I just woke up, all I intend to do is move from the couch to my bed, and continue sleeping.

I hope dad sleeps okay tonight. I hope that he's not in too much pain tomorrow.

And that, Dear Friend, is all I know.