I have 72 pages left to input, then a spell-check, then it's out for feedback. I'd thought I'd be done, tomorrow, but I won't have a chance to work on it till Sunday. Saturday, I'm heading down to Scranton to say good-bye to my aunt. She's close to the end stage of her cancer, and I wouldn't feel right if I didn't go.
It's 280 miles each way, so I'm renting a car for the trip. My Civic's making some odd growly noises, lately, which could be transmission-related. Which would cost an arm and a leg to fix, so I'm driving it as easy as I can. I have points with this one agency, so I cashed them in to get it. All I pay for is the taxes and insurance. It's covered, to an extent, by my Amex and personal insurance, but it's worth the $12 not to have to worry about filling out forms and crap. And I'm getting one that's maybe a bit better on gas, too.
This ain't gonna be a nice trip. I got the strong hint that I should call instead of come. I had to ask for the address of the hospice a couple of times. I can also just imagine getting all the way down there and her not being in a condition to see me, but I don't care. I'm doing this for me, no one else.
I've been through this so many times before. Friends dying of AIDS or cancer. And my own mother. It's always a bit surreal to me. Like it's a shadowy reality I'm not privy to...haven't the ability to accept as fact. Of course, it also reminds me that I haven't got all that much time left to me, either. My only hope is I go fast, not drift slowly into death.
But not for a few years, yet; I've still got too much left to write.
It's 280 miles each way, so I'm renting a car for the trip. My Civic's making some odd growly noises, lately, which could be transmission-related. Which would cost an arm and a leg to fix, so I'm driving it as easy as I can. I have points with this one agency, so I cashed them in to get it. All I pay for is the taxes and insurance. It's covered, to an extent, by my Amex and personal insurance, but it's worth the $12 not to have to worry about filling out forms and crap. And I'm getting one that's maybe a bit better on gas, too.
This ain't gonna be a nice trip. I got the strong hint that I should call instead of come. I had to ask for the address of the hospice a couple of times. I can also just imagine getting all the way down there and her not being in a condition to see me, but I don't care. I'm doing this for me, no one else.
I've been through this so many times before. Friends dying of AIDS or cancer. And my own mother. It's always a bit surreal to me. Like it's a shadowy reality I'm not privy to...haven't the ability to accept as fact. Of course, it also reminds me that I haven't got all that much time left to me, either. My only hope is I go fast, not drift slowly into death.
But not for a few years, yet; I've still got too much left to write.
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