Today started off weird/bad. Since the flooding happened, the whole town is edgy and weary of the mess, the work, and the confusion. Affected government offices are squeezed into odd places; one office is housed on the top floor of the county museum, another in a bank. The business of life is on hold while entire communities try to rebuild basic necessities like hospitals. I cry every morning as I drive into town, arriving tear-streaked and hiding behind my 'rehab-shades'. This has to be PTSD, which, true to form, I am unable to take medication for. Plotting my own escape hasn't helped either, and today, in a moment of absolute clarity, I had to accept the fact that there is no "out". I can be tracked down anywhere, as I cannot live without my plastic 'money', and vehicle safety standards being what they are, I cannot even be assured of a quick and dirty death. Damnable airbags. So, I, and other small business owners like myself will continue to soldier on. You'll know us when you see us. If the morgue-humor isn't a give-away, the darting eyes and various nervous tics should tip you off.
I'm going to med-up and hit the rack now.