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Have just completed the job of piloting a rented van from here to Buffalo and back (with a small detour to Wilkes-Barre to drop
dariodevil off for his own quest) in 24 hours in almost continual rain; said rain running the gamut from "heavy mist" to "Jesus Fucking Christ I can't see a thing OH GOD WHY DO YOU FUCKTARDS NOT HAVE YOUR LIGHTS ON aagh". Am now the proud possessor of a tea cart (for which, apparently, I forgot a serving tray widget that goes on top, but that at least can be stuffed in the car on any subsequent visit), an antique drop-leaf side table, and a largeish gilt-frame mirror. I have also learned that my palate can no longer tolerate Cinnabon, that it's sometimes worth the extra $15 to stay in the up-one-notch motel, and exactly how crap most American coffee is.
Mentally burned, emotionally jumbled, and my metabolism doesn't know which way is up. I also, in spite of exhaustion and rotten weather and amazingly retarded people on the highway--even by I-80 In NJ standards--, had this bizarre urge to just keep driving; not from any aversion to return home, mind you, I simply wanted to...Keep Going. As in, Not Stop. SHUT UP MR PSYCHE I'M WORKING ON ENOUGH THINGS RIGHT NOW kthxbye.
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Mentally burned, emotionally jumbled, and my metabolism doesn't know which way is up. I also, in spite of exhaustion and rotten weather and amazingly retarded people on the highway--even by I-80 In NJ standards--, had this bizarre urge to just keep driving; not from any aversion to return home, mind you, I simply wanted to...Keep Going. As in, Not Stop. SHUT UP MR PSYCHE I'M WORKING ON ENOUGH THINGS RIGHT NOW kthxbye.