This morning I watched the new Brad Paisley video that was taped in my old hometown a couple of months ago.
It was good. I enjoyed it. It showed the Eighth Street sign. I used to live on Eighth Street. I thought that was exciting so I ran and got Jacob and showed it to him and then I got all teary sad remembering Eighth Street.
Eighth Street was fun. I didn't realize it at the time, but it really was. My best friend was across the street. I could walk to work. There was nothing better than watching my friend's kids love on our doofus dog or wave at me from their front steps. I miss the mailman actually dropping the mail on our porch and snow days and the fricking Big Lots. I miss my friends and my family and my old white house. I could barely see to drive my kid to school for the tears.
But then it dawned on me.
Did they just show the corner of Eighth Street on that video?
I lived near the corner of Eighth Street.
DAMMIT! Could my dream of Brad Paisley knocking on my front door have come true and I wasn't in my house to live it?
Oh, now I'm just pissed.
One more reason I hate Texas.
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