The last time I was here I had to find a clinic for a blood draw and protime test. This time it was an overnight plus a shower in a few. I suppose Fargo is a nice place, but it is North Dakota and everyone has heard all the horrible stories about the Siberia of America. By the way, winter is just around the corner. Coming across Montana the day before yesterday, there was fresh snow on some of the higher peaks. It won't be too many more weeks before that snow works its way down to the valleys.

I'm looking forward to winter with about the same enthusiasm I have when the wife talks about going out on the truck with me. Winter will come, though, there's no getting out of it. I just hope I can get through it like I did my first winter of driving truck. For the most part, I seemed to be either a few days before the storm or a few days after the storm. There was the blizzard-like conditions south of Syracuse, NY, the foot of packed snow over Island Park, ID, and the ice across the Red Desert in WY, but all in all it was fairly easy.

For the record, I DO NOT LIKE PUTTING CHAINS ON THE TRUCK.

Chapter 17 is going, not well, but at least I am working on it. I think what I should be doing is, instead of writing it linearly, work on the three different sections of the chapter as I want. As I've said before, I know what happens in the chapter for the most part, it's just getting all of that down. The chapter starts with a sex scene (no, I'm not saying who) that involves a lot of internal dialogue, anger, and maybe a little regret; probably a lot of frustration, too. The second section might have a murder; a rather gruesome murder, the kind of murder you read about and ask, "Jesus! How can someone be so cruel?"; and maybe the death of one of the main characters. I haven't decided on that, yet.

The new story is sitting waiting for me to finish Chapter 17.

On the home front, I'm better than I was a week ago. Last week I truly believe I was on the verge of another breakdown. I think it was because of the stress of getting home on time, getting the ashes over the mountains, and everything that's been going on a home. It's kind of hard being the sole breadwinner in a family, especially when our financial situation has deteriorated as much as it has since I had my first breakdown.

Right now, I'm trying to focus on staying rational by avoiding negative thoughts. When I call the wife to tell her I'm still alive, I'm trying very hard not to get upset when she says, "Wait a sec' while I turn down the TV." That used to irritate the heck out of me, but not now because, you see, it's a knife edge. One false step and I'm falling either into the nearest exit or into the nearest nut bin.

It's so tempting sometimes to just let go and fall. After all, I've been to the edge and looked down at myself scattered upon the waters. A week ago I was definitely looking for an exit. I hadn't taken any steps toward the fruits and vegetables, so a drop to nothingness seemed to be the obvious choice. Yet, you see, I have this overriding sense of responsibility. The wife is almost totally incapable of caring for herself. How can I justify causing her possible death if I should decide to take the nearest available exit. And, what's to become of little Bonita? It's a failing, I suppose, to care too much.

I just want whatever it is in my head to go away and leave me alone. I want to be at peace with myself and not fear the nearest sharp object, poorly guarded defile, or simply a cold winter storm. Did you know a bottle of good whisky and a icy cold winter day are the ingredients for an exit? Cheap vodka works, too, but if you're going to go, go top shelf.