ATF: Two Years, Still Need a Lie Down

 For at least two years now, the now-detective former fireman across the street has been right: you don't get over fires.

We went to storage yesterday to start pulling out the whole 10x10's (hard to believe I worked in an ofice that small) worth of things rescued. My hands were immediately gray, and less than ten minutes in, got my first big whiff of burn.
We worked for about 45 minutes before the light head and a stomach ache were too much. My tongue felt thick, words weren't coming out right, and I was in the blank, uncaring state that followed me for months after September 6, 2006. "I'm done, I'm done," I kept saing.

I bullied through loading what I'd pulled and laid down on the blacktop in the shade of the next building over and cried, trying to keep my now-black hands off my face. Boy was losing his shit in King's car before I started to cry, saying, "It burned!" over and over, his way of asking to leave, rather than being annoying. 

I sat up after a while and wiped out tears that had dribbled into my ears (the hazard of crying laying on one's back), admired yesterday's intensely blue sky, and insisted that day's trip was over.
I lost my shit at a friend later, setting Summer off, whcih set me off again, and leading to an epic use of napkins on our faces and noses. Final count: me, two, Summer, four.
I went to bed at 10PM last night woke up for about an hour, and slept again until noon. My eyes are still annoyingly gummy today from crying.

For those of you who hate lyrics posting, look away. For those who want to know what I lisened to driving home, what fit with yesterday and the two years before it, carry on.

Beautiful Mess, Jason Mraz

You've got the best of both worlds
You're the kind of girl who can take down a man, 
And lift him back up again
You are strong but you're needy, 
Humble but you're greedy
And based on your body language, 
And shouted cursive I've been reading
Your style is quite selective, 
Though your mind is rather reckless
Well I guess it just suggests
That this is just what happiness is

And what a beautiful mess this is
It's like picking up trash in dresses

Well it kind of hurts when the kind of words you write
Kind of turn themselves into knives
And don't mind my nerve you could call it fiction
But I like being submerged in your contradictions dear
'Cause here we are, here we are

Although you were biased I love your advice
Your comebacks they're quick
And probably have to do with your insecurities
There's no shame in being crazy, 
Depending on how you take these
Words I'm paraphrasing this relationship we're staging

And what a beautiful mess this is
It's like picking up trash in dresses

Well it kind of hurts when the kind of words you say
Kind of turn themselves into blades
And kind and courteous is a life I've heard
But it's nice to say that we played in the dirt oh dear
Cause here we are, Here we are
Here we are [x7]
We're still here
What a beautiful mess this is
It's like taking a guess when the only answer is yes

Through timeless words, and priceless pictures
We'll fly like birds, out of this earth
And times they turn, and hearts disfigure
But that's no concern when we're wounded together
And we tore our dresses, and stained our shirts
But it's nice today, oh the wait was so worth it.