Running Away from Home

When I was a little kid... and a kinda big kid, I would get mad and pretend I was running away from home. But instead of leaving I would slyly slip into the car so I would have a visual of the front door. This way I would see everyone panic and come looking for me.

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Except nobody ever did.

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I can now look back and imagine that a) I wasn't in the car long enough to test every one's love for me and b) maybe they knew where I was.

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Last night I thought about those days, about figuratively "running away" and "hiding somewhere" to see if anyone would come looking. (but you guys do realize I don't really mean run away and hiding, right?)

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(although I really don't know what I am trying to say here)

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But then I thought about how I wouldn't want anyone to come looking for real, or at least not to find me- because then they would want to talk to me and do you know what?

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They would say all the wrong things!!

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They really would. Can anyone ever really say the right thing when things stink that bad?

Ma.

Man, this post is a bummer!

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But on a lighter note, tomorrow I get a root canal!

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And I am working on a post about hot bald men. Ting!

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Update: I told Gary about this post, as best as I could.

He promised that he'd come looking for me if I do run

away. He said he's going to check the car first.

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