It was a slim, winding road, carved hundreds and hundreds of feet up, in a cliffside. It was a dangerous road in fair weather, a potentially deadly one in a storm. I was driving along it at breakneck speed. Both of my windows were open, and dead fall leaves whizzed past me, outside the car and in. It was night, and the leaves, lit up warm brown in my headlights, were the only other break from the black road and black sky. I leaned into each curve as my conscience told me to slow down and my foot on the gas grew proportionally heavier with my fear. I was having so much fun.

But I realized I couldn't do this forever. I'd have to slow down and get off this road pretty soon, so I let up on the gas. For a split second, I wasn't paying attention to the road, and before I could right my car, I'd missed one of the hairpin curves and gone sailing over the edge, into the black.

At the bottom of the cliff, there was no black. I was treated to a slow-motion-descent view of a vast landscape, and I saw green and dirt-road tan and muddy-river brown. As I drifted down, I wondered if I could survive this. After deciding no, my last thought was of B, and my last words were, "Oh shit."

Then I woke up. My heart was extremely concerned. I eased myself back into sleep, though.

I had to go shopping at Wal-Mart. I picked up tomatoes, a towel, deoderant, paper towels, and 3 colors of acrylic paint. While I was sniffing deoderant, one of the people who works at the bookstore came up and engaged me in conversation. When I went to the bra section, she said "eew" and made a snide comment about Wal-Mart lingerie. I went up to the cashier and saw another person who works at the bookstore. He said hey and asked me if I'd use my debit card to buy a Spongebob Squarepants beach towel for him because he didn't have approximately $0.07 in his wallet and the cashier was being very uncooperative. She was a miserly old fat lady who looked like she'd never smiled or gotten any joy out of anything, ever. He said he would pay me back, so I agreed to buy the towel.

When it was my turn, the cashier was so rude to me that for spite, I decided I'd try to shoplift the things in the bottom of my buggy (the acrylic paints) for spite. If she noticed, I decided I'd just say, "Oops, I forgot all about them because they're down there!" She rang everything up, and I paid and attempted to leave. She noticed the paints. I told my lie, but she wasn't convinced and wandered off somewhere, probably to get the manager, but she didn't say, and she didn't come back. In the meantime, she'd built up a huge line of customers, so a clerk who'd just gotten on the clock took over her register. Before he started, I told him I had some forgotten items and I'd pay for them now. I put them on the counter, but he ignored me completely and started ringing up the next customer. "Fair enough," I thought. They had been waiting kind of a long time.

When he finished ringing up that person, I reminded him about the paint. Again, ignored. By this point I was getting angry. There were two people behind me also waiting for something from the cashier and I must've startled them when I kicked my buggy. So the clerk finished up with his next customer and I reminded him about my paints again.

He came back with this high-pitched snotty, "I know," and glared at me. I lost it. I picked up my shopping cart and swung it menacingly. The clerk hid under his register, and the people around me all stepped back about five feet. The cowering shithead under the register crawled out and ran off for the manager with his tail between his legs. Minutes later, the manager, who looked like a skinnier more annoying and bug-eyed version of Zach Grenier stormed up to the register and asked me to please-calm-down-ma'am-this-is-a-place-of-business. He then stormed away again, but I followed him, snarling through my teeth, "I have been waiting at this fucking register for twenty minutes now. Your shithead clerk is ignoring me. All I did was remind him I had forgotten items in my cart and I would like to pay for them." He blew me off and went back to the deli section to assuage the concerns some fat woman had about the condition of her ham.

Again, I waited. The clerk finished up with another customer and without even looking at me, proceeded to ring up the person in line behind her. At this point, I was at the end of my rope. I screeched like a harpy.

"FINE! I WILL JUST BUY MY FUCKING PAINT SOMEWHERE ELSE. I DON'T NEED IT RIGHT NOW. ALSO I DON'T THINK I WILL COME BACK!"

The manager walked by while I was screaming and gave me the thumbs up and the most condescending grin I've ever seen.

I wanted to murder him. Instead I left. In the parking lot, a cold, biting rain started to fall and as I packed things into the trunk of my car, I dismally wondered what the hell I bought tomatoes for. And then, again, I woke up.

I decided to get out of the bed this time and here I am.

B had an appointment with a respiratory doctor this morning because he hocked up a fleshy loogie which may or may not have had blood in it about a week and a half ago. He's not home yet, and I don't know how it went. I don't want to call him because if there's bad news, I don't want to hear it over the phone.

I figure he's at the comic book shop or with his parents or something. He'll be home soon, asking what's for dinner.

I have to open the coffee shop tomorrow morning, on my birthday.

I get the feeling 22 is not going to be a very happy birthday. Better than 20, which was (oh god) a terrible nightmare, but not very happy.

Edit: Sucked it up and called B who was at the comic book store. The respiratory doctor said it was nothing serious, a dust allergy probably, and gave him some allergy pills.