So, it's 4am and my brain is whirling, and everytime I try to lie down, it's itchy, or I need to move, or... well, I just can't get comfortable. So, I've come out to the Living room to type and sit and think and rhyme so as not to disturb Heather. She does most of the driving, afterall - so I can sleep in the car, and frankly, I'll probably end up better rested there.
Celene is looking at me like I'm crazy. And she's right. We're leaving at 8.30am so as to make dinner in Omaha, so me being conscious at 4 is just stupid. Oh, and there's an hour time change... so really it's 5am. And my clock on my computer's still set to Eastern time, so I keep thinking it's 6am.
Yup. Gonna die.
I think... I think... it's time for peanut butter and jelly.
December 5th, 2003.
(Listening to Adam Day... and now Buffy - the Musical)
Last night we crashed with Kyle Knapp, in Omaha. All through Nebraska, the sky had been slowly blackening, and there had been the threat of Weather since an hour out of Colorado.
The plains welcomed us with with thickening clouds, and we drove at 75 straight into the tail-end of a blanket of swirling snow.
It's spectacular to watch the weather change in the midwest. The sheer distance that you can see is sort of hard for an East coast kid to understand. I remember my parents taking my brother and I across the country when we were younger, and being chased by a thunderstorm across the plains of Nebraska. It was a massive
black wall stalking on legs of ligh- no, not stalking - this bastard was sprinting towards us on huge legs of lightning, and cars came like refugees running from war, streaming along the interstate, fleeing hail and Hell.
This wasn't anything like that. First off, we were heading towards IT.
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