(Update: after spending the summer in Psychotic-thyroid land, I am finally feeling like a human again. I am going back and posting all the blogs I started but didn't post due to not being able to clearly edit them. This was written in July)
Have given it a month and 1/2 and I can tell the generic thyroid medicine is not cutting it. I am all over the place emotionally. It has had an adverse effect on my mental health. I have made an appt to get help. If I don't I will not make it till the brand name medication returns.
I am bummed out because I DO NOT LIKE TAKING medications. And the thought of adding another makes me queezy.
Everything I try to write swings to the extreme edges of the pendulum. I am all over the place.
Having said that,
Would you like to hear a ghost story?
Oh you do? Well then *pulls up my hood and clicks on my flashlight under my chin*
Follow me...I think we can get there by candle light...
Up at the top of Oregon there is a road called Beef Bend Road. I have been on it once, and the writer in me loved the name and the sound it made when you say it. Beef Bend The sound plops like a portion into my writers pail and conjures up all sorts of interesting brews.
When I lived on the farm. There was a stretch of road that had a hard right turn on it. So sharp it was banked. Then the road was straight just long enough for you to get your speed back then it realigned your vertebrae with a banked hard left.
This little stretch was haunted.
in the middle of the straight portion on dark wintry nights there would be a single strand of dense fog that was just a car length wide laying across the road.
Like a curtain.
A bone chilling cold presence that would touch you as you drove through it if your windows were down... AND...touch you, even if they were not down.
It was like a rift between worlds a place where the enchanted earth-ways fractured and were ajar.
I renamed this little stretch of road Beef Bend.
It was an appropriately freaky scary movie type of night in mid October that I was summoms to work at 2:00 am to replace a sick worker.
I left the farm and headed to town in my old AMC Pacer.
Still sweeping the cobwebs out of my mind I yawned and sped up when I saw the right hand turn of my Beef Bend road approaching. (Um, yeah, I loved to sped though there when I was driving alone)
Huh? It took only a second for my mind to snap fully awake and register that the passenger door had clicked ajar as I took the corner.
My mind had just enough time to think..."Oh hell no I am not picking up any hitchhikers on this stretch..." before I entered the haunted fog.
That is when the passenger fasten seat belt light came on.
it came on.
lighting up the consul with a ominous light.
As my arrector pili's made all my hair stand on end, I gripped the steering and looked over out of the corner of my eye at the empty seat.
This time my mind said it aloud, "Oh hell no I am not picking up any hitchhikers on this stretch..."
light still on.
By this point I am hopelessly freaked the *&*%!^$ out.
"Alright fine!" I address the empty seat, "put on your seat belt or get out!"
...and the light goes out.
I sped into work and recanted my tale to my co-workers. As night shift workers we all enjoyed a good after midnight ghost story.
"I'm just glad they got out!" I laughed.
"Maybe...injected a coworker. "Maybe they just put on their seat belt."