Curves ahead, next 175 miles

You know when you're driving on a freeway and there's traffic? Not stop and go traffic, but swift-moving, cars are all around you traffic? And you drive for a while like this, headed out of a city, and suddenly, instantly, it seems, it's only you and a couple of other cars, and you know that everyone didn't get off at that last exit, so you ask yourself, where did all the cars go? It's eerie, one minute you were all flowing back and forth between lanes, and suddenly the freeway is quiet.

It's weird when that happens.

I did one of my marathon trips to Marin County yesterday, went for work and I'm right at the point when I can't take the Leaf Baby with me, because he's too big and into everything for me to be able to work, and I can't stay away overnight without him, so I have to drive there and back in the same day, and I never leave quite early enough, and I always get caught up in something I shouldn't on my way down. Yesterday it was finding myself a new book, which only took about 26 minutes, but 26 minutes is a lot when you have a seven hour round trip commute. It won't always be like this, I tell myself, as I'm driving home thinking strange thoughts to myself, squinting out through the windshield into wet, dark, night, blinded by other people's headlights, feeling like I'm stabbed in the throat every time I swallow because this sickness has managed to cling to me limply. I'll be able to sleep over, within the next couple of months. I used to be able to take Leaf with me, before he woke up and started noticing the world. Carpet! Small dirty rocks on carpet! Taste them! Papers! Crumple them! Keyboards! Slobber on them! We're just in a weird patch, is all.

Not that I'm complaining, at ALL, but I just thought you should know that those roads that people say, "Hey, don't take that road, it's slow and narrow and way too curvy. It'll take twice as long, and make you sick, besides," are fashioned after the road that I live on. VERY CURVY. VERY NARROW. VERY DARK. I'm totally not complaining. Although I've mentioned being sick every day this week, and I'll probably tell you about it tomorrow, as well. Thanks for all the well-wishing, by the way. I don't feel that I and my measly little gremlin sickness deserve them, but I feel warmed by them.