AT THE END OF THE DAY
Circa 2002.

The water came on again, full blast, while I was asleep. The cupboards came open. The cats always stare at that one spot. My keys disappear, and turn up later in the hallway. My guitar defies gravity to fall forward while leaning back. One night I hear scratching noises in the kitchen, but the cats were at my side. There are ghosts in this house, but that doesn't scare me.

My truck makes odd noises when I'm driving back from Kansas. The lights flicker, and the engine does that thing. The gas pedal feels like I've suddenly hit a patch of molasses. This truck's second engine is giving out, but I can live with that.

I work in the centermost region of Middle Management. If I move up any further, I'll be completely separated from the parts of the job I don't loathe. My personal finances are now such that if I don't move up any further, my debts will never shrink. I can sleep with this knowledge.

I stayed up until 4am watching that overly stylized remake of that cheesy '50s flick. I ate pizza, which was covered in those yellowish peppers, and I know I will have nightmares. The last time, I dreamt about getting a lethal injection, a dream so vivid I can still feel that needle going into my arm, right at the crotch of the elbow. I am not bothered by this.

I went through that box of old stuff. Pictures of a few of them, notes from a few others, the box the ring came in. I looked at the faces that were there, pictured the others, and I realized how different they all were. Each one beautiful to me, but in a different way, drawing me in for different reasons, and turning me away for different reasons as well. The more I think about it, the only common factor running through each and every one of those relationships was Yours Truly.

And that scares the hell out of me.