I feel like I should be hyper-ventilating. Like my body's trying to, but I just don't know how. I got up a little while ago and called Volvo in Hickory, honestly expecting to hear that the truck was ready. After all, I hadn't talked to them since yesterday morning. Well, they haven't started working on it yet. Then I returned a call to my dispatcher. She said to give her a call Tuesday and to enjoy my weekend.

I think that's when the tightness in my chest started. Tuesday? Oh my God. We're really in that position. This is the weekend of the 4th of July. Even if they get the truck ready, there probably isn't going to be any freight moving. We sit every July 4th. And now here we are, with our checking account way in the red, with absolutely no money coming in, with bills stacking up and the phone ringing off the hook from creditors, and my dispatcher says “enjoy your weekend”.

I'm not trying to smack her down or anything. She's just trying to be nice. But I honestly had not considered the possibility that I would be sitting here all weekend. As much as that appeals to me on one hand, it still hit me like a brick. I paced back and forth in the living room for a bit, saying to myself “Oh, my God. Calm down. Keep it together.”

I wish I wasn't so dis-associated. It took me a minute to figure out what was wrong, what I was feeling. Right now I honestly wish I could go sit under a tree in the backyard and just cry my eyes out. But I know that if I tried I'd be sitting out there with the dog next door barking at me. Somehow that seems like the perfectly metaphor for my life.

I told Katie (my dispatcher) that we had already decided that if the truck isn't going to be repaired any time soon, I'm just going to have to accept whatever truck USX offers me. The problem with that is that I've pushed for so long to keep the Volvo that I've stumbled into the 4th of July abyss. Not a lot is going to be happening between tomorrow and Tuesday. I suppose a few days won't make a difference in our fortunes, but at this point it isn't so much about the money as it is my need to feel like I'm doing something and we're beginning to dig our way out.

Well, if I can't cry maybe I could at least manage to hyper-ventilate for a bit. That wouldn't solve any problems, but it'd make me feel human. Sometimes the light gets through the cracks in the armor and I realize how much of a relief it would be to sit down and have a good cry. Somehow, though, I never pull it off.