Sick Day – fin

324 miles and morning seems like a lifetime ago. But I woke without the foggy, thick feeling in my brain. My nose still ran like a faucet, but I think I’m pretty well resurrected from the Death Plague. I made some coffee for my mom and I, and we video chatted with my dad, in London. It was nice to smile and laugh together. Then, in our own time, which took alot of time, we head out. Just down the road, my jeep waited, also resurrected.

Its only been a couple weeks past our one year anniversary together, and shes cost more money than shes worth. Yeah, I call my jeep a “her.” She’s far too small and dainty to be referred to as a “he.” Like an Undine, all deep, aquatic teals. Small, mighty, and trouble. She’s been nothing but a thorn in my side. Never failing to hit me in the head when I open the back to load things in, and her back window refusing to stay up on a hot day in the sun, despite functioning a/c, and never, never failing to go dead after the slightest amount of neglect. All boats are referred to as “she,” perhaps because men loved them as they loved women, or perhaps because they were as high maintenance as a woman. 

I am hoping the approaching new year will prove better for us. For her and for me. A new beginning. Although truthfully, I don’t hold much hope. My heart has been cracked and broken too many times to hold much of anything within it. Everything is just going to happen. Maybe one day I’ll meet someone who knows the art of Kintsukuroi.

She brought us home. I unloaded her contents back into my small apartment. I sat on my couch, while my cats settled back in. It was dark, and late, and cold. Tomorrow, I’d be back to work. No more sick days.

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