My Momma Raised a Quitter


In my desperation to get out of the house this week, I lay in bed one night fantasizing about my escape. I would somehow get the church to give me an advance on my pay, which shouldn't be too hard, since everyone there loves me. Plus, my mother is the bookkeeper, so I might be able to get her drunk or something. Anyway, once I had the cash to get myself a few miles down the road, I would disappear from my job and steal a bike from my parents' garage.

[Note: Yes, I realize that the stealing-a-bike bit is a skosh reminiscent of all those plans I made to run away from home as a seven-year-old and then again as a ten-year-old and then again as a fifteen-year-old. Bite me.]

Actually, scratch the bike thing. In my original daydream, I was walking and possibly hitchhiking. I would leave my cell phone near a river bank somewhere, buying a pay-as-you-go phone instead. I was originally going to go by the name of Aurora, but some people might remember that I have always wanted that to be my name. Then I thought of going as Beth, but then people might remember that I hate the name Beth.

[Another Note: If you have ever watched Gilmore Girls, you will understand that last line. If not, well, shame on you.]

At that point, I actually thought, "Umm, this is ridiculous. I can't just steal money from the church and run away from home. And what the crap would be the point? I'd be running from the law for a while, get caught, go to jail, and it would take that much longer to see my friends. DUMB IDEA, SKIRTS. Plus, I can't even think of an alias. Weak."

And then I blogged about it. The end.