I’m spending the day getting ready to head out early tomorrow, before the ass-crack of dawn. I’m heading to Georgia, the place where it all began for me.
Side note: according to “The Walking Dead”, it will also be the place where it all ends with a zombie apocalypse, but that’s irrelevant today since I’m currently still in Texas.
I’ve got my bags mostly packed with all of the things one needs for a road trip; like Little Debbie snacks, peach flavored sparkling water, and the card with my sister’s gift money in it. You know, the important shit. As I sit here typing this, I realize that I almost forgot to pack the expensive-ass outfit I had to buy for this evening wedding, because that’s what kind of idiot I am. I’ll be staying at mom’s for a few days after the wedding, so of course I already packed enough clothes and shoes for a month, because obviously.
Side note: a huge shout-out and much love to Angie over at youlookfab [dot] com for helping me pick an outfit of pieces that I look forward to wearing in the future! She is amazing, as are all the people that participate in the discussions there
It’s always anxiety inducing to head back to the place from whence I came. There are so many memories, and so much wreckage. Families can be dicey in the best of circumstances; I’m sad to say that the first 35 years of my life were not the best of circumstances. Then there’s the anxiety involved with being away from home, and Sunshine, and Mollie. Who will cook chicken for Mollie even night? Who will pack Sunshine a lunch every morning? Who will wash dishes and do laundry and… I’m already exhausted just thinking about the backlog of housework that will be waiting for me when I return.
However, my little sister is getting married, and I need to be there. No matter how awful, how insane I got during my active addiction, whenever I showed up at home for a visit my sister always showed up to see me. The least I can do is go to her wedding. Besides, my sister is awesome and I want some cake.
Side note: I’m hoping that I don’t ever have to make good on my promise to hunt her groom down and make him regret it if he ever hurts my sister. Because that’s the sort of thing I don’t know if Sunshine would bail me out of jail for doing.
Since many miles of my drive (hell, whole fucking states) have no decent new-rock-type radio stations, I went to the pawn shops & the $5 bin at Walmart so I could go old-school on this trip–the CD player in my truck actually works, but I have so few CDS that I had to go buy a few. The playlist for this road trip includes lots of Metallica, Avenged Sevenfold, Chevelle, Nine Inch Nails, and a band out of Shreveport called The American Tragedy; and some Zucchero & Kenny Wayne Shepherd for when I need to lower my blood pressure after all that hard-driving music that helps me eat up the miles on I20.
I’ll be taking my tablet with me; and it has a data plan, so you’ll be getting my “notes from the road” while I’m gone, complete with pictures. Exciting, no?