Mondays
What is it about Mondays that has always makes me despise them far more than any other day of the week? Technically, I should be happy for a number of reasons. Not having any residual bruises from the concert is probably number one. It was so intense. I still can't get over it. Seeing Luke again comes in a close second. He was away all weekend hunting, and ended up bagging two deer. He was quite proud of himself: a large doe and 2-year-old spike buck. Gutted them and everything, too. Guess I'll have to have some venison soon. We had a very interesting (and long) phone conversation last night, a lot of it about guns. He's determined to get me to fire his .22 at some point. I have to admit, I'm scared shitless of guns. They represent too many negative things for me, but that argument fell on deaf ears. I suppose he has a point in saying that I can't just run from what I'm scared of. I suppose, deep down, I am morbidly curious. It's just so far from anything I was brought up around. Dad was in the Army, but that was way before I was born, and he doesn't have any guns in the house. It's just nothing I've been exposed to. At least Luke said he'll never make me touch a firearm again if, after three shots, I still hate or fear it with a passion. Interesting stuff. Also today, winter track starts. I need my adrenaline rush/athletic fix. And, to top it all off, I have the car. ^_^ Pardon me if I still get excited about that. I suppose the novelty will wear off sooner or later.