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My mother backed up into my Jeep in the driveway again. This time, she hit it with enough force to break the light cover of the front right-hand turn signal. I found out this morning when I went to leave for work and found the shattered pieces of red, transluscent plastic on the hallway bench along with an apology note. I appreciate that she said sorry this time, but I'm still annoyed. I'm the one who will have to go to the Jeep dealership and have a new light cover ordered in. I doubt they have anything in stock for a 2009 model. And I don't understand how it's possible to hit a vehicle in your own driveway, especially when there is plenty of clearance.

When I spoke to my father later today, he told me that she'll pay to have it fixed and that "maybe that'll teach her how to back up." I didn't ask him this, but I'm wondering if she should even be driving. Over the years, I've had several bad experiences in the car with her driving. Like when she almost ran over a kid on a bike, even though he was right in front of us and there was no reason for her to not notice him. Or when she ran over a mother duck and her babies, even though they were in plain view with plenty of time to slow down on a straight, flat road with no traffic behind us. Earlier this year, I noticed how long she waits to apply the brakes when approaching a red light. It's not safe to drive that way. My father insists on driving whenever they go anywhere together, and I don't blame him.

Dinner tonight was tense. I mentioned that I'd come home from work early today due to feeling sick. My mother piped in with "me too. I felt sick to my stomach too." Uhh. I actually didn't feel sick to my stomach. I felt dizzy and just sort of "off," withdrawal symptoms from forgetting to take my pill yesterday. And she didn't come home early. I heard her come home at her usual time. I didn't correct any of this. My father made a half-hearted attempt. "You're tired," he said, reminding her of what she'd said only moments ago. She had told us she was tired and made no mention of feeling ill. Now, suddenly, she feels sick too. She has a weird habit of saying "me too" to nearly everything I say. It's either "me too" or "not me." Me, me, me. No matter what I say, she makes it about herself somehow. So it didn't surprise me when only my father bothered to ask me if I feel any better. I responded in the affirmative, telling him I'll skip tonight's run just to be safe. My mother said more things about herself — which we both ignored — and I went back to my room. Now I'm on the bed with my cat curled up next to me while I bitch about my home life to you fine folks. 

I'll finish up by telling you of my latest obsession: Halloween decorations. I've been wanting a lifesize poseable skeleton for years, and this month I finally treated myself to one. I ordered it online and came up with a general plan while awaiting its arrival. I'll make a bunch of zombies for the front yard and make it look like they're chasing the skeleton. The skeleton will be running towards the house, which is the "safe zone." If I have the time and energy, I'll create a wooden barricade with pointy sticks shoved through some of the zombies, like on The Walking Dead. The trick-or-treaters will get "survival caches," which will be short cardboard tubes full of candy and taped on both ends. My costume will be that of a zombie apocalypse surivivor. I just need to find a cool pair of boots and some sort of leg holster for a gun or knife (fake, obviously). While brainstorming this elaborate plan, I decided to teach myself more actual surivival skills. For example, setting a fire is a pretty basic surivival skill that I very much suck at. I'll have to find a place to practice making them. And I'd like to know how to shoot a gun. Also, I found this really cool ring you can buy that has mini tools hidden inside it so if you're ever kidnapped (which is more likely than zombies, honestly), you can cut or picklock your way free.  

Also, I've been listening to The No Sleep Podcast and am seriously considering writing a story for them. Either that, or trying my hand at voice acting. I've always thought it would be fun to do the voices for cartoon characters, and this is kinda the same idea but with more blood and guts and no visuals. Let's see how long I think about that before I actually do anything. I'm terrible for procrasinating. But, the way I see it, I've been writing for myself more often, and that's a good step in the right direction. I even wrote in my paper notebook last week. Or was it the week before? Anyway. Thanks for reading, whoever reads this. I'm gonna lay down for a bit and listen to more stories of people being murdered by supernatural creatures. 

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