It's only a day away.
That's the thing too. I'm sitting here fantasizing about tomorrow. I'm thinking about what I'm going to do once the money comes in. I feel it in my guts. That's fucked up, but that's the way it is. That feeling doesn't pass in 20 to 30 minutes and anyone who says it does is full of shit.
But I did do stuff to keep my squirming mind busy.
I went to the store with my friend Don. He finally was sober and over that shakes enough to walk a few blocks to the convenience store for some smokes. He got a pack of cigarettes for me as well. Then we cruised over to Dollar General to get some food. He doesn't walk all that well and has to stop about every half block to get his breath.
This ate up about two hours. It was and is nice outside with blue skies and the temperature in the mid 70s. The scenery, as in college girls walking by along with good looking office workers going for lunch, was nice. Hey, what can I say? I'm not really a dirty old man, but I'm not dead either. This is funny in a way, but not, some of those girls leave nothing to the imagination.
Then we came back and I had to do something to keep myself busy. I have a Facebook page and monkeyed around there a little bit. Commented on some "friends" pages. Left comments on sites that want to boycott BP. Listened to a PRI podcast regarding the "war on drugs." (It's a dismal failure.) Un-friended one "friend" who is just hustling an adult website. Sheesh, don't they read my profile?
Erie Crackhead has better and/or other things he does with his money.
But the whole time the thought was rolling through my head. Tomorrow is almost here. Tomorrow is when shit is going to happen. Tomorrow is when I better do all the things I need to do before making that phone call. Tomorrow is when the rubber better damned well hit the road before the shit hits the fan.
In a manner of speaking of course.
Yep, it's only a day away....