Day 9: Down To Single Digits!

by pjmcbride

Seems like Day 30 was–well, not that many days ago.


A manager of a Dollar General store wanted the police to bar a woman because she refused to leave her bag up front. I am just glad my local $ General hasn’t asked me to do so, because I am not about to leave my bag next to the cash register by the door, where anyone could grab it and run. And I would tell them this, and they would call the police. And I am just glad they’re not open all night, because then the officer who’d bar me would be Nick, and that is a scene better imagined than described.


Another thing I’m glad of is that there are scissors at my work station, so I can finally trim that loose thread on Security Blanket that’s been troubling me so. {Ooh, now I touched Security Blanket, and have to have it on my lap so I can touch it some more.} I remember one event at Nick’s house, where I became fixated on a loose thread on the hem of his shorts. But I knew if I asked him to remove it, he would then guard it with his life, and I would have to attack him with scissors.


Anyone can read an article on autism in their local paper. But it takes an autistic person to feel compelled to read it aloud…and then have to start over because I made a mistake. (The “high-functioning” part consists of not doing this in front of other people.) I’ve done this since I learned to read. I’d be hard put to explain which things need to be read aloud, but I know them when I see them.

Hey, maybe I’ll wear nothing but Security Blanket on my last day of work! {So soft…}

I am writing this post in lieu of filling out paperwork to roll over my 457 into an RSA, because it frightens me. You can see why.