I went for a drive this morning. This was the one picture I got. I thought the sky looked pretty. I liked the leftover fog. I liked how it looked over the prison farm. It was about this same spot on Highway 36 that I broke down in the early 90's. I was so scared and it was around midnight. For some reason, broken down near the prison, a teenage girl automatically assumes there's a murderer on the loose. Okay, maybe not most girls but this one did. A couple of cops passed and did nothing. I had no cell phone and my grandparents were expecting me. A long while after waving my little glow stick out the window, a deputy finally stopped. My grandmother was waiting up with every outside light on and looking out the window. Can you imagine her reaction when a cop car pulls up in the driveway? I'm sure she was relieved when I not only got out of the car but got out of the car without handcuffs. They were both happy to see me. The next morning was a different story. When my grandfather took me to get my car and it actually wasn't broken down but just low on transmission fluid, I got a very common and much repeated lecture on how I only worry about whether or not there's gas in the tank.
I'm going to try to make "Consistent" my middle name... in a good way. I'll try to be more consistent with my posting and less consistent with the neglect.
