so after posting, i lay in bed for a couple of hours, enjoy the thoughts swooshing and swirling around in my head but unable to actually sleep. then i started to worry about becoming addicted to vicodin.
then i went to check my email. i knew my cousin was safe in that bus crash in chippewa falls, but i read an email from my uncle about how distraught the town is, and how vulture-like the media has been. he's speaking in a national morning news program tomorrow. it brought back memories of when kirsten and cori died, and the news cameras swarmed the high school the next day. how i can't stand to see conrail cars to this day. how i really wanted to smack most of the busload of kids who went to the memorial service, who had gone to get out of school and not because they felt a loss. (maybe that's uncharitable, or cynical, but naaah, i don't remember seeing much grieving on that bus.) how guilty i would feel when i ran into their stepmom, especially when i had passed some kind of growing-up milestone like getting into college and kirsten just wasn't there to do the same things. how i've never been able to accept other people telling me that their pot use didn't affect anyone else. how many years it took before kirsten stopped showing up in my dreams.
i tried to sack out on the sofa for a while, trusty lovey cat by my side. (he drives my husband crazy because he usually stomps on our bed indelicately, but tonight he managed to curl up next to me and not move a muscle.) i slept for a while but woke up in pain, took another vicodin, and now here i am. i have a refill of vicodin to pick up tomorrow, and i had thought about maybe toughing it out without it. reality is that the normal painkillers aren't doing anything, though.
my unc's on the news in about... 2 1/2 hours.
edit/add: just saw him. he looked like hell, like he hadn't slept. i didn't realize he was a chaperone on the bus trip. fucking cbs basically asked him to try to assign blame for the crash to the bus driver, and they got his name wrong, too.