June 07, 2004
I celebrated the 60th anniversary of D-Day with projectile eruptions from both ends of my body. I spent most of yesterday and half the night curled in a fetal position on my bathroom rug while tumultuous dreams ran through my head every time I managed to fall asleep. Bejus, but that was bad.
I don't know what I did (ate a bad burrito, maybe), but the worst appears to be over now. I'm a little wobbly on my feet and I feel like a wrung-out dishrag, but that's one hell of a lot better than I was yesterday.
I had to be at my new lawyer's office in Savannah at 11:00 this morning to pick up my paperwork for the divorce appeal. I agreed to get it filed at the Effingham County courthouse today to save some cash on lawyers fees. Today was the deadline to file it, too, so I HAD to get that job done. I didn't think I was going to make it at 11:00 last night.
But I felt well enough this morning to drive into Savannah, pick up the papers and drive all the way back to Springfield to get them filed. Mission accomplished.
One thing I worried about while driving into town today was encountering a bunch of G-8 protesters. They've gathered in Savannah and Brunswick because security has Sea Island locked up tighter than a tick on a dog's belly. But I didn't see any goofballs, lunatics or bedwetters on the street (other than the ones who are native to Savannah and are there ALL the time). The only unusual sight I saw was a caravan of about 25 city police cars heading down Oglethorpe Street toward the Talmadge Bridge, which is closed to commercial traffic today.
A lot of locals are worried that Savannah could turn into another Seattle if the protesters kick up their heels. I don't think that's going to happen
It's too got-dam hot for that crap in Georgia this time of year.
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