2004-02-24 / 3:09 p.m.

Blah. That kind of day. Slow and shoulder-sore for nothing. Want to sleep but there are things... purchases to make and dog hair to suck up into the loud appliance. I don't wanna do it. Anything. Don't want to move.

No more yelling or crying. Not for awhile. Just the opposite, really; as long as I'm awake.

I'm scared to be gone for three days. Scared of the sleeping and the missing and I feel guilty for... I want to be there and I don't want to leave here. It's not as far as it seems in times like this. Two months ago I would have said no, I can't; I wouldn't have been able to drive away. Now he's okay and it's supposed to be all better; I'm the only one still having tearful fits. It was hard to make myself go back to work; now this jump to 300 miles away... I'm nervous.

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