Work required...

Whipping BA-4 into decent shape is proving to require more work than I expected. I had the full section written in first draft and it's pretty straight-forward in the telling of the tale...but I keep finding inconsistencies and spots that need changing to match up with the preceding section...and cut more paragraphs.

I did a fair amount on the flights home, which were on time...albeit packed solid. I always get an aisle seat unless the flight is under 90 minutes; that's so I don't have to bother people when I need to go to the toilet. But it's tight. SW now charges extra for the emergency row seats, which provide more space. I used to pay for Business Select so I could snag one of them. No more.

Upon landing I was feeling good so got my car, decided to get a DPZ and grab a salad at Panera's. I stopped at a convenience store for the soda...and as I got out of the car somehow my cargo pants leg got caught on some part of its door and tripped me. Fell flat. Not really hurt, but my pants ripped open at the leg pocket.

That kicked me off center. But still got my DPZ and kept to the plan. I got to Panera and ordered the Fuji Apple Salad, but with turkey instead of chicken...and they were out of the apple chips that go with it. I was almost put off but went ahead with the order, and it still tasted all right, but not quite the same.

By this point I was in a foul mood. Like the universe was telling me something. I'd planned to stop at a grocery store for some things but decided I'd better just go home. 

I did that because I was veering into my self-flagellating mode...and fighting to remind myself that I wasn't a complete failure. That I'd done right by certain people. Like Kelly. I'd given him money to keep him off the street for eleven years. Over ninety-thousand dollars, total. Took me to the point of bankruptcy.

My sister also pitched in. I have no idea how much it cost her, but it wasn't that much less. She bought him a second-hand RV to live in and paid for his dental and cataract surgery. I focused on rent for his RV lot and running money. Just $700-750 a month. It wasn't till he got early Social Security that he was able to get state aid for a real apartment, and that was thanks to a nephew.

She and I did right by him, including paying for his cremation and interment...but I still had to scream that at myself to beat back this growling sense of not having done enough...all because I fell and tore my fucking pants.

Maybe I need therapy.