No updates in a week. Sorry. I was offline all weekend (which was probably good for me), and for some reason I haven't been able to access blogger from work, which is where I usually jot down my random thoughts. It was a good arrangement -- it got the stuff out of my head (can you say obsessive-compulsive? Good!) so that I could get on with my day. For the last three days I haven't been able to blog, and for the last three days I've left the office more stressed out and exhausted than I have in a long time. Coincidence? I think not.

Sometimes I hate the 45 minute commute because it gives me plenty of time for introspection (sometimes I hate it for other reasons, but that's a whole 'nother rant). During today's drive home, I kept thinking, as I often do, about what a manipulative jerk my dad was, and then I started feeling, as I often do, tremendous guilt that I don't really miss him. I had a dream about him the other night. We were in our old living room with a bunch of other people, and he was sitting in his usual spot on the couch, no shirt because he'd just gotten out of bed. His face was messed up, a patchwork of stitches where it had been sewn back together (I never saw him after the accident, but I was told that his face went through the windshield). He sat there and smiled the whole time, and never spoke. It was a warm and pleasant moment, despite the scars. When I woke up, my first impression was that I was glad I made it through the dream without him yelling at me. Then I remembered that he didn't even speak, and I realized that I can't really remember what his voice sounded like anymore. This didn't bother me as much as you'd think it would.

I wish I could miss him.