random thoughts on the edge of the abyss.

Reprieve. The room does not have to be perfectally clean. One less thing to worry about, although there's still a pile of crap to worry about.

And I loaded the closet with books from the garage, which should make my mother happy. At least they're out of her hair. And in digging through the boxen, I found two things. Two childrens books. One is The Dawn Treader by C.S. Lewis and How Can You Hijack a Cave? by P.J. Petersen. And both are special to me.

The copy of Dawn Treader has written in it, in a youthful scrawl, "This is the book I was reading when the Persian Gulf War started."

The other book is a bit more obscure. I knew the author as Dr. Petersen, my mom's English teacher at the local Junior College. Finding out he was a children's author blew my mind. And when I approached him to have him autograph the book, I said he was my mom's English teacher. He smiled. And when he signed the book, he wrote:

"For Katrina -- It's great to know I've had two generations of Templetons. I hope you're as good of a writer as your mother. All my best "

I really should have taken a class from him when I attended Shasta. Alas, I didn't. Blah.

Anyway, the book has a second meaning to me, because he was specifically inspired for the book by Shasta Caverns, the tourist trap I worked at one summer.

And yeah. Wow. We're so close to leaving, and I so should not be awake.

sixty two hours until I'm in Halifax. Thirty one hours before I leave.

I am so not ready.