Okay, I've said this before, so if you're not interested or if you're put off by my incessant whining, you're excused from reading further.

I considered commiting the ultimate sacrifice tonight.

No, I did not consider offing myself.

Get that out of your heads right now.

I'm too F**KIN' chicken to do myself in. I can't stand the thought of experiencing a nanosecond of terminal pain.

No, I considered going away for awhile.

You see, the thing is, there might be enough money coming out of the settlement of my mother's estate to achieve the goal of nearly every debtor: DEBT FREE!

Except for the house, but maybe that will be achievable, too, depending on how much our son will need to get a home of his own. Provide for your loved ones, then screw yourself into the ground.

If I achieve that lofty goal, I may be in position to get some treatment for my depression. Some real treatment.

You see, the depression is very wearing on my spirit. I think I have enough control over committing the ultimate solution, but I know my resolve is weakening.

I want peace of mind. That's all I want. And, to me, that means committing myself to some form of severe therapy, which will mean cessation of my driving abilities. You can't be nuts and drive the big truck.

I'm not nuts, yet, but I'm so close it isn't funny. You could say I'm one step from psychological oblivion. I can see that it would be very easy to take that step and be free of every worry I've ever had.

Unfortunately, I still have some degree of responsibility toward those who love me, even if their love for me satisfies some selfish inner need to express love toward someone else.

So, I'm safe, for now, I think.

As long as I realize I have a responsibility to provide some degree of security to someone incapable of securing their own life, I think I'm safe from myself.

On a happier note, I'm working on a Christmas story. I've written one every year for the past two years and I want to continue the tradition. This year's story is titled, "Merry Christmas Patrick." It's about a poor kid who finds out people love him, including the queer kid who is trying very hard to be his friend, just his friend. It's a Christmas story so there's no sex, sorry.

Tomorrow night I have to take a load of dry groceries to Bend, OR. My dispatcher offered me this load when he didn't have to. At first I balked, but after thinking about the implications of turning down the offer, I called him back and said I'd do it. I am not looking forward to driving over the Cascade Mountains at night and having to put the chains on twice in each direction (if I go via US-26), besides having to drive down to Portland to pick up my truck and trailer. I told the wife not to expect me back until sometime Sunday. When I get back to Portland (after the delivery), I'll probaby sack out in the truck for awhile. No use in killing myself driving home.

Also, if you haven't been by my forum, I'm looking for a volunteer moderator. If interested, be sure to read the request as you might be turned off by the job requirements.

Well, got to get back to the Christmas story.