fall's coming

I can feel it in my bones. Or, really, in my face like a dozen maniacial jackhammering midgets drilling for oil.

I had intended to whine endlessly, but eh. Boring.

So, I talked to Daddy for an hour on the phone on the way into work and made a 'moving to the country in five years' plan and listened to the new George Strait album and bought myself a sausage biscuit.

I'm getting too old to enjoy the city on a day-to-day basis. I know, I'm not old, but in my bones? I had a very short period of young. Mother says I was born 30, which would make me considerably older now. I enjoy wandering and looking and going to see, but I want space now. I want land. I want out.

*looks at myself*

You know, that's really it. I want out of the traffic and the crush of people and the neighbors. I want to sit on my back porch and not see folks. I want to rock and drink coffee and plant roses in a bathtub and have a passel of dogs.

I'm not unhappy, don't get me wrong, and god knows I love to have a plan. *grins*

The cold front's coming. If I was at Moma's, I'd have her make us popcorn and we could hide and watch stupid scary movies. If I was at Daddy's, he'd heat up a washrag in the microwave for me and we'd plot how to take over the world. If I was at home - well, Lorna's battery died, so I'd be riding with Larry to go fix it - but there'd be coffee and pain pills.

Tonight there'll be chicken soup and CSI and writing and the pibble and the moo-puppy and tomorrow there's rodeo.

Right now, there's a cold front coming.