Baby, I can't fight this feeling anymore.

There's not really a feeling I'm trying to fight tonight. I've just had this song on the brain lately. I saw footage of REO Speedwagon (or Meatwagon, as Randy calls them) doing this song recently. Recent footage, at that - not from the old days.

I wrote a post awhile back with another line from this song...click here to read that. Well, this week I talked to that guy. One of my co-workers needed something, & he was the only person I could think of who might've been able to help her. Then the song came on while I was stressing a patient, & I knew I needed to make that call. He couldn't help her. Oh, well.

(So, if you are reading this, & you talked to me for the first time in 20 years or so the other night, & your parents live near the lake - & I think maybe you do too - you need to call me back. Seriously. If you have found this post, we need to talk. And no, I am not asking you to commit adultery!)

Today was a weird day, really. I was in a funky mood, & I mean funky in a "what is that growing in that clothes basket?" way. I didn't go to Randy's sister's house for the fireworks party. I just didn't feel like going. I have the excuse of watching the race, even though I really don't care who wins at this point. My favorite drivers, if you could call any of them that, are all out of the race. Oh, I guess I could pull for Dale Jr. I like him as well as any of the drivers who are still in the race.

I used to be really into all this, but now I barely even watch the races. In reference to my last post, I don't think racing is very environmentally friendly. I do understand why people like racing though. I have been at Daytona, where they are now, for this race, the one they used to call the Firecracker 400. To those who are there I say, SUCKERS! I'm glad it is you & not me! I would much rather be watching that race here in my comfortable air-conditioned living room!!!

That ranks up there among some of the most uncomfortable nights of my life. Greg Biffle won that race. Standing in a crowd of sweaty, smelly drunks waiting 20 deep for the buses to take us back to where we parked, MILES AWAY from the track, some drunk in the crowd shouted, "Who's Greg Biffle?" The kids thought that was funny. It took us all night to get back to our room in Kissimmee. No lie. We had a very hard time staying awake, & we were sober. It is truly a wonder that I am still here to write about that.