I'm at work and typing a quickie. I looked at my hands and I didn't notice how cut up my hands are. During the night my hand must have been bleading cause I still have blood stains on my hand. I forgot to mention that the tire cut up the palms of my hand. That is probably why I got a flat. The inner parts of my tire were so worn that it was down to the staples and as I grabbed the tire it cut up my hands. You can tell I am having a great one. I was pretty happy when this cruise missle like event knocked me down. It is really bothering because I was thinking earlier that for most of my relationship with my father, I have been the bigger person. In the sense that things that really don't matter that bothers him, I adjust for him, so that there is no friction. I came to thinking that here I am changing for him at times and for what? I ask? To be treated this way. I keep my hair black for him. I am proud to say that through his intolerance I learned great tolerance.