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Aug. 11th, 2009
You knew it already anyway
Aug. 11th, 2009 02:19 amSarah Palin just completely full of shit.
Yeah, there's no such thing as a "death panel" in the health care legislation bill. And as for all that bullshit of "I don't want the government telling me what treatment I can or can't have."... yeah, that would be so fucking different from the insurance companies doing the same thing, right now.
Yeah, there's no such thing as a "death panel" in the health care legislation bill. And as for all that bullshit of "I don't want the government telling me what treatment I can or can't have."... yeah, that would be so fucking different from the insurance companies doing the same thing, right now.
micro-fiction
Aug. 11th, 2009 03:48 amHe woke up with a start, at first not sure of where he was. Then, he realized he'd fallen asleep in his easy chair again. Third time this week. Far more often then he used to. Louisa had hated it when he did that. But she wasn't here any more, and maybe that's why it was happening so often. It used to be that he'd get home from work, just as tired as he was these days, but he had a wife to share a bed with.
He sat up and turned the TV off. Whether it had been the TV that had waken him, or some noise outside, he was up now. He stumbled down the hall and into the bathroom, glancing at himself in the mirror, not liking what he saw.
Mid 40s, stocky, balding. Stubble on his face from not shaving the past couple of days. That wouldn't have happened either if Louisa was still here. Red eyes from crying, from drinking, from lack of sleep. From too many nights on pointless stakeouts, busting dope dealers who would beat the system with lawyers who were just as criminal as their clients.
Maybe if he knew why his wife had left him, he could sleep in his own bed instead of a sagging chair. It wasn't because he was a cop, or least not just because he was a cop. He'd been one for over twenty years, and she'd stayed with him all that time. Through him walking a beat, through finally making detective, through being shot twice in the line of duty. Through coming home with bruises or cuts or even bite-marks from dealing with junkies and hookers and assorted low-life. She never seemed to worry about that part of it. She never seemed to mind the nights where he didn't get home until two or three in the morning because the paperwork wouldn't wait, or because an investigation or an arrest took longer then anyone had thought.
But if it wasn't that he was a cop, what was it? Was it something as cliche as waiting until their daughter was full grown? Was it another man in her life? There hadn't been another woman in his. Oh, he'd been tempted. But he'd never strayed.
But it still left him alone. Staring in the mirror. Not knowing.
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Author's note: Been tooling around with this one for a couple of days, mostly just thinking about it rather then getting it down on paper or LJ. It just got to the point where I had to write it to get it out of my head.
He sat up and turned the TV off. Whether it had been the TV that had waken him, or some noise outside, he was up now. He stumbled down the hall and into the bathroom, glancing at himself in the mirror, not liking what he saw.
Mid 40s, stocky, balding. Stubble on his face from not shaving the past couple of days. That wouldn't have happened either if Louisa was still here. Red eyes from crying, from drinking, from lack of sleep. From too many nights on pointless stakeouts, busting dope dealers who would beat the system with lawyers who were just as criminal as their clients.
Maybe if he knew why his wife had left him, he could sleep in his own bed instead of a sagging chair. It wasn't because he was a cop, or least not just because he was a cop. He'd been one for over twenty years, and she'd stayed with him all that time. Through him walking a beat, through finally making detective, through being shot twice in the line of duty. Through coming home with bruises or cuts or even bite-marks from dealing with junkies and hookers and assorted low-life. She never seemed to worry about that part of it. She never seemed to mind the nights where he didn't get home until two or three in the morning because the paperwork wouldn't wait, or because an investigation or an arrest took longer then anyone had thought.
But if it wasn't that he was a cop, what was it? Was it something as cliche as waiting until their daughter was full grown? Was it another man in her life? There hadn't been another woman in his. Oh, he'd been tempted. But he'd never strayed.
But it still left him alone. Staring in the mirror. Not knowing.
---------------------
Author's note: Been tooling around with this one for a couple of days, mostly just thinking about it rather then getting it down on paper or LJ. It just got to the point where I had to write it to get it out of my head.