30 to 45 minutes before I have to leave for the 'BIG' hearing on my disability claim. I frankly have no idea what to expect at this point. All I'll be able to do is try to relay what my daily life is like, as pitiful as that is.

I'm afraid that today I'll have to set my pride aside and simply tell this man the way it is for me in my world. And then, I wait. Waiting isn't a good thing for the paranoid. I bet I come up with the most outlandish reasons invented by man as to why the judge would turn me down. Nothing I will be able to counter, mind you, as his reasoning will be etched in stone.

Have I said I feel like a lamb being lead to slaughter? Well, I do. And, what's worse is that I'm willing to make the trip to the slaughter house in the first place.

Here's hoping I actually end up where I'm supposed to end up and I don't get lost along the way - which is something I usually do, get lost that is - I'm scared sheetless. That's a given. And, on the other side of the coin, I'm simply waiting for the moment when I open the door and begin the trek to my doom.

I've always wondered what this day would 'feel' like. Now I know. The best word for me to use is surreal. Absolutely surreal.