Last week, I spent a bit more time with Michael. I stayed at Sarah’s (his mother’s) house again. Clearly, it’s his house too. Per Ames’ advice, I locked both the bedroom and the bathroom doors behind me. Thanks Ames - for suggesting a possible resemblance to Norman Bates. Nonetheless, I was unable to avoid interaction altogether.
“Draconian measures!” Michael stampeded through the living room, where I sat perusing housing listings on Sarah’s computer. “Draconian measures!”
He’s not talking to me, is he? I spun the chair around, and, yes, he was.
“This is outrageously wrong! I got a $1200 ticket for driving without my lights on, and it was daytime! It’s that stretch of freeway between here and Sacramento. Watch out over there. They get you every time. Take another route, or keep your lights on all day long. They’re looking to steal from you. I didn’t have my new insurance card, so they hiked it up to $1200. Draconians!”
Gulp. I could only support him. “Twelve hundred dollars? That’s just criminal!” I confirmed.
“You bet it is. If you can’t drive, you can’t travel. You can’t travel, you don’t have the right to peaceful assembly. You’re robbed of your freedoms. I’m fighting this to the full extent.”
The man knows his constitutional rights. I was ready for him to hand me a rifle and command, “March with me, woman!” We’d go parading through the streets of Paradise, rifles in hand, shouting “Draconian measures! Down with Draconia!” I’d do the beauty pageant wave and become very popular in my new stomping ground.
Lucky for me, Michael cooled down a bit and left the room.
Truthfully, I have no idea what Draconian measures are. If they have anything to do with Dracula, though, I’m definitely on his side. Dracula’s side, that is.
On my way home, I pulled over to take this photo. I didn’t see Michael or anyone around. Still, I snapped and jumped back into my car very, very quickly. To avoid any further Draconian measures, I made sure to keep my headlights on all the way home.