I ended up eating breakfast with my father this morning. He cooked Clarke Brother's sausage and homemade biscuits. We then had a long discussion about my independence.
"I don't want you to start drinking again," he told me when I asked about receiving money again.
"I could easily be drinking now," I told him.
"Pawn shop silly," I replied. "I have a ton of electronics at the house."
He scratched his chin and looked thoughtful.
"Give us a few more months," he said, picking his Atlanta Journal and Constitution newspaper back up to read.
I sulked home feeling defeated. As I was driving home, I thought of Joyce and thought of how she would do anything to be in my shoes and alive. I have a pretty nice life and lack nothing. It was a glass half full or empty moment. I chose the half full route. I feel better. Nothing can steal my thunder today.