There's nothing like talking to certain parents to make you instantly revert to child status. It was a call from my dad last night, which I can usually leave behind me in that I won't have to deal with him again any time soon - but - I'm going to Maine for Christmas.

I am not looking foreward.

He managed to stretch it out to a week, despite me saying I can't be away for long, need to be looking for a job again.

I told him about I695 passing and he discounted it in a "nothing you care about matters" way.

I told him about the bad traffic lately, he said he told me so in a "I told you you shouldn't have folowed your dreams and moved to Seattle" way.

I asked him what he wanted for Christmas in an "adult who accepts the responsibility of buying gifts" (not a child who just expects to receive) way and he said he hadn't thought about it. I asked if he likes Eddie Bauer and he said there's nothing he needs.

I had dreams, might as well call them nightmares, with him involved. Don't remember much, just after it was all over I wanted to lock myself in my room and get away, but it was this room which doesn't lock and he could see me through the eyehole (which doesn't exist in real life.)

I brushed my teeth, washed my face, thought about how much I don't want to go "home".

To make matters worse, I stepped on a woman's foot getting off the bus this morning. She screamed an exagerated "OUCH" (the way that Juniper, the cat who will barely mew at you if he really really has something to say, will scream like you're trying to kill him if you do so much as step on his tail fur.) I felt a little kid who had just gotten yelled at for something mostly beyond their control.

I just wanted to get off that bus and away from all people - I was afraid I was going to start crying like that little kid right there on the bus, or walking to work, or at work. I was glad people couldn't see my face walking up the street, but they still knew who I was, knew that I had been bad.

The toys around my computer at work looked childish, stupid. My dripping wet hair and boyish clothes didn't help the self-image either. . . though it was just how I chose to dress today.

I felt better after talking to Sarah about the morning. She liked my boy-shirt.

Jake always says if he gets cats he'll get two at the same time so they can be friends. It's like that with contracters too - hire two at the same time and they can be friends.