I must have had a premonition. Too bad it was a little late.

Those thoughts of moving westward will be put off indefinately now.

Hours after that entry my apartment was invaded by twentysome odd men with rifles waking up my room-mate and myself. They took us both to jail. They took me for having two joints, a misdemeanor and my room-mate for having half of a xanax without a prescription, a felony.

We're fine. We're busting asses ourselves now. Seems the police want to work with us because they were misinformed and they thought they were going to find stacks of money and dope in our apartment.

I see the dollar signs floating away. Literally. I'm at home now. But the front door doesn't work. I'm in the process of packing. Throwing things away and putting them in boxes. Off to mom and step-dad's I go.

Let me just say, jail sucks and you don't want to go.

48 hours in. 40 hours of sleep, maybe more. And I'm still tired. You'd think that would have been enough time without a cigarette for me to just quit. Wrong. That's the first thing I did when I stepped outdoors. That and burst into tears and start shaking and show my mother the disgusting bruise in the shape of a very large hand on my upper left arm from when I was yanked from my bed and yelling about how I want to own this county.

I now officially hate police. They are small, small people behind guns and badges with some sort of superiority complex and it is not my fault that they hate their jobs and/or are underpaid.

I'm going back to packing now. I've been home a little over 24 hours and I've got way too much work to do in the next 24 hours.

Suck, suck and more suck.

But, this too shall pass, right?

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