Sudden but I guess unsurprising anxiety attack sent me running around the neighborhood. Walking fast, rather. I popped a half a pill, leaving 6 full ones to go until Tuesday, when I assume the doctor will refill the prescription. He gets lecturous about it. I should not need them but I do, and there have been nights where I swear they saved my life. Or maybe I could have zoned out and gotten to sleep without them. Who can say. I have had anxiety attacks my whole life, but this pill was not introduced to me on account of that. It is specifically meant for anxiety caused by alcohol withdrawal. But I do not believe that was ever a proper diagnosis or prescription. It was routine for the ER folk.

I am in the cluttered and uncomfortable ghetto coffee shop. They are doing inventory, or rather unboxing products. So there are boxes piled all over and people who look too young to be handling such things are pushing around heavy hand trucks.

I just heard someone say that putting cat litter under your wheels will give you the traction you need to get your car out of a snowy mess. Never heard that but it sounds plausible. But would putting an actual cat under the wheel provide even greater traction? Aha. (That was a joke.)

So my morning’s philosophical ruminations gave way to anxiety-filled wanderings around snow-cloaked sidewalks. I wonder sometimes if anybody else who works from home around here has noticed that I step outside several times a day, and that I appear to have nowhere to go and nothing to do. I used to see a guy like that, but he appeared to be homeless. He always looked very purposeful, though, as I suspect I do.

One of the first girls I ever talked to said she saw me walking around the school buildings after school was out, and that it always looked like I had somewhere to go. She was correct. That I believe was the 7th Grade. I remember her following me once, as I busily marched toward a classroom building. Once I got around a corner and out of sight I stopped and stood there. I did not realize I was doing this, or that it was so obvious to others, but I wanted to fool her into thinking I had some important reason to enter the classroom building. I had no important reason to be there. I stood there, messing with my hair and, when she appeared, feeling the fake look of importance I had on my face. She pretended to have gone this way by accident, and said nothing. I don’t remember how long she circled before we made conversation but it was quite a while. Eventually we became phone phriends. She once dedicated a song to me: “Endless Love.” Unlike other overtures of this sort which would come and go throughout my life I actually got the hint. She had a crush on me. I found her vacuous and repulsive, but when she got older her breasts expanded to fit the mental void upstairs, and she turned into a total hottie… a rather promiscuous one at that.

OK, there is too much commotion in here for me to think.