Running Away

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I almost got eaten by an alligator this weekend.

Maybe it was an alligator gar.

Or a catfish.

Something.

But it tried to eat me, I’m pretty sure. Killer catfish are dangerous too, you know.

Maybe I should start at the beginning.

I ran away from my life on Thursday. Packed up my car, grabbed my toothbrush, the whole nine yards. Because I’m a responsible person, I requested time off from my job and told people where I was going and when I would be back too, but it still counts as running away. I mean, I planned it in all of two days, and that’s definitely what you do when you’re running away.

You also get up ridiculously early and leave in the dark before it gets light, and I did that too.

Then I drove to Missouri. To see my editor.

It was glorious.

First off, there was the drive. I was gone for four days, and two of those were nothing but me and the open road, all the snacks I could eat, and as many audiobooks as I could possibly listen to in 24 hours of straight drive-time.

In case you were wondering, I plowed through four and a half books.

Three and a half of them were scary.

The last one was sad.

I am still questioning my choices.

The other two days were spent soaking in the  Missouri sun, canoeing down a gorgeous river straight out of Jurassic Park, almost getting eaten by a killer catfish, horseback riding through the woods, and slapping at bugs.

The catfish didn’t actually bite me.

But it flopped like it was going to bite me.

I screamed in self-defense and it was a totally normal reaction, so you can stop laughing now.

Anyway, I’m home again and running on no sleep and adrenaline, so wish me luck for the next week. I’ll sleep when I can’t run away from my problems anymore.

What were you up to this weekend? Anything special? Tell me about it in the comments! 

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