Yesterday while driving along, there was a pile of something in the road. Fearing it was some animal or what was left of some animal...I swerved. As I passed, I realized it was just a pair of pants.

Since I drive down that road quite frequently, every time after that I made it a point to run over the pants.

Later, I had a flash of clarity: those pants and that road symbolize everything that is going on with me. Which is to say, what's been going wrong with me, which has been a fair amount lately, which I haven't really commented about here because I am not a fan of angsty, bitchy diaries.

So I was sorry I ran over the pants, just as "the man" has been running over me. And the remorse I feel has prompted me to take action: I retrieved the pants from that oft-traveled street that I have worn a rut into. And I am now going on a special mission quest to find he who owns these pants, and seek some much-needed answers.

So I am leaving for a while, Diaryland. I don't know where these pants are going to take me, or whose they are, or what the hell I'm doing or how this will all go down, but hopefully when I do return all my problems (and those pants) will be all ironed out.

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