Deer oh Deer
Bad decisions . . . bad decisions. . . .
Not terrible bad, just . . . one too many margaritas . . . stayed out one hour too late. . . .
And there’s that feeling, in the pit of my stomach, like we went to bed mad.
I make a pot of coffee, pour myself a cup to drink while getting ready, and pour the rest into one of my thermoses. Then I make another pot, fill a second thermos, and leave the rest for Frank. I’m not fucking around today.
I had such grand plans for this morning, too. I was gonna make a big pot of oatmeal, and clean up the mess that’s been laying around since Thursday. . . .
I don’t normally shower before going into the shop, but today I need it. And maybe, just maybe, my body will be able to hold onto some of that cleanliness until the end of my shift, because I have two weddings to attend tonight.
So of course there’s no hot water.
Not how I wanted to start this day.
My car says I have about 30 miles until my tank is empty. I’ll make it to the shop easily, but the first wedding is out in O’Fallon, so I’ll need to stop before then.
High of 47 today; it’s been such a warm fall that this is the coldest day we’ve had so far. It’ll be even colder in the shop; they don’t like to turn on the heat or the air because they’re cheap. My number one priority today is keep myself warm. If I can keep myself warm, my hands will be warm. If my hands are warm, they’ll work better, and I won’t cut myself like I did last weekend. Although last weekend . . . was a little different.