Home again, home again, jiggety jig…

Do you remember that rhyme? For some reason it always comes to my mind, but I don’t say it because the parts about the market and buying a fat pig don’t seem too relevant.

There is no place like home and I am glad to be here once again. I have such a mixture of feelings about this travel that I do for work. I really don’t want to do it anymore but I hate to admit that my age prohibits it or my ability to do it has diminished. Obviously I can do it, but it seems to be that I pay a price, and the price is going up somewhat. Maybe I just need time to forget the parts I didn’t like, if that’s possible. The long night drives scare me – we are always arriving at our destinations late and tired out and of course that’s when my night shift starts. I really miss a lot of sleep, which makes the return trips even more scary. Sometimes I get in the van after stopping for a gas break, and am amazed at how clear and three dimensioned the road looks compared to before the break when it all looks flat and I’m fighting to keep the white lines in focus. Evidently I’m a pretty good driver even in zombie mode but all it would take to create disaster would be one moment of the eyes going shut. I don’t even want to think about it. Sometimes I do imagine what I would do if we crashed and rolled and I had the responsibility of helping a quadriplegic who is strapped in a 400 lb. wheelchair and bolted to the floor of the vehicle… I don’t know if it even pays to have a plan in mind for that. I thank God that he hasn’t put me in that place.

I have a box of delicious peaches to reward me for traveling through the state of Georgia in July… that and a paycheck.

Talk (write) to me.

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