Wherever I Am
Thursday. So, the laundry is finishing up in the drier, the laptop is loaded with the various files I need to maintain the journal on the road, the batteries are charging, the camera gear is in the process of being packed, we are headed for Portland in the morning. Took me enough time to recognize the fact. Took me enough time before I started to prepare. Nothing new here, of course, but it's best to recognize who's fault it is should something fall through the cracks. (Yes, cat food has been stocked and Ms. E will be feeding her every morning. First things first.)
Friday. The morning is not good, the head pretty much fucked, but that's what the mornings have looked like recently, no complaints (except for the complaints). Still, fucked does not mean I'm not able to drive. Be interesting to see if this pattern follows over the next week. Any chance I'm allergic to my apartment? To Ms. Emmy? A question I've asked in the past with no good result.
Up around eight, finish last minute packing, load the car, have breakfast at the usual place, fill the car with gas, on the road by 10:30, up highway 101. A detour to highway 1 up there somewhere, discovering after twenty five miles of weaving road under the redwoods I'd exited to Highway 1 yes, but going south to San Francisco rather than north to Oregon. Twenty-five miles of windy road. How embarassing. Still, I'm the only one in the car, no reason to get upset, the road was interesting, the ocean spectacular (Who lives out there so many miles from anywhere? Lucky bastards.) Back the twenty-five twisty miles to 101 sitting now somewhere in Oregon not all that far just over the border from California. If I leave early tomorrow morning no problem reaching my sister's by noon. The motel room I'm sitting in cost less than sixty dollars for the night with hard wired Internet, the heat on high, the PBS New Hours in the background, life is good, wherever I am.
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