<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/platform.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d7964919\x26blogName\x3dBill+And+Dave+Are+Dead\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dBLUE\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttps://billanddave.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_US\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://billanddave.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d4370529864444180878', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>

Monday, January 23, 2006

Sideswiped

Just when I thought things between Autumn and I were finally settling back down into a sense of normalcy, she goes and hurls another monkey wrench at me, and into our relationship.

I had a very difficult time with Autumn's kidney donation. Since then her incisions have healed well. When she first got home from back east after being hacked open I was shocked at the sight of her wounds from surgery. I was upset and sad. She is back to her over-active self on weekends like nothing happened now though. Weeks passed and I did my best to put the whole situation out of my mind like it never took place. Once, Autumn invited me to have dinner with the man she gave her kidney to. I wanted no part of it. I have no desire to meet that man or his wife. Since then she has been fairly quiet about them and I have been happy to let it go at that.

We slid back into our routine of only seeing each other on weekends and spending the rest of our time alone doing our own thing and slaving away at our jobs during the week, fifty miles apart from one another. Things seemed good.

Autumn sat me down in her livingroom and told me she wants to be a volunteer teacher. She went on to inform me the volunteer teaching position she has in mind is at San Quentin. She would be teaching math, reading, and writing skills to convicted rapists, murderers, and drug fiends. Autumn gave me a minute or two after telling me about her plan and asked how I felt about it. I didn't say anything right away, but on the inside it was like someone had just punched me hard in the gut and I couldn't breathe. I felt like the rug was being pulled out from under my feet and I was about to do a faceplant into the floor.

I didn't see this one coming.

1 Comments:

Blogger factory_peasant said...

cool. i'll check it out.

9:08 AM  

Post a Comment

<< Home