I missed my bus last night, and thus had to take a later bus to Chapel Hill, leading me to miss my connection home, leading me to having to walk for 50 minutes in the dark. I almost felt like running after the guy I'd talked a bit with on the bus and steal his seeing eye dog, but that would have been mean. Besides, who runs these days?

Oddly enough, I found myself getting startled again and again, and the sound of steps somewhere behind me had my heart pounding repeatedly. I thought of perhaps stopping one of the patrol cars driving around rather idly if they could drive me home because I had a long walk in the dark to do, and well, hrm, I was sort of scared, but I couldn't bring myself to it. I'm sure they would have said no, anyhow. I kept walking, and walking, and walking, and the further I walked into spots of no houses nearby, the more I wished I had called for a taxi, even though it would have been stupid to spend that much money. For some reason, images of a report of a rape nearby some week ago on tv kept swirling about in my imagination.

Catch: If you don't want to walk around alone near woods and water in the dark, stop someone that looks reliable and ask if they could perhaps give you a ride. Be sure to pick a rich, new looking car - you never know what crazy ass people drive raggedy cars, and expensive car owners are probably on their way home to their family. On the other hand, rich people are assholes too, and might drive off with you somewhere remote and make you into another Dahlia. This means, if you are afraid to walk alone in the dark for fear of being attacked and/or raped, you can't accept a ride either, for fear of being attacked and/or raped. I should get a car. Or leave early enough not to miss my bus.

I made it, though, and I wasn't that freaked half an hour into it. I amused myself with images of beating an attacker up, instead. I got home around 8. My first stop was the bathroom. The only regular thing about me is that I need to pee at 7. Needless to say, walking that hour was not pleasant for all sorts of reasons.

Oh yeah, the nipple poem. For some reason, it only manages to make me hungry.