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So... yeah... I'm flyin'. Looked in the mirror this morning... staring back was TV's beloved Dr. McCoy from Star Trek. Bags under the eyes big enought to carry a month's supplies for a safari of thirty. Wild, bloody peepers. And a foul mouth to match. I don't wake up pretty. As we have learned. Back to yesterday's rant... actually, a rant that's been building up, concerning accomodations. OK... so I'm a guest wherever I go, this stayover thing. In two nights, pay up and leave, with no visible trail left behind. And no bathtub ring! In my mind, acting like I have some sense... that is, not being funky or a slob, obnoxious or a general MoFo, is where it's at. Like in marriage, communicaton is everything (hey, wait... wasn't that a problem, a few entries ago?). This modus operandi has carried me through pleasant and upleasant situations alike. Such as: �the Italian/Mormon Lady �the Ambiguously Unattached Ex-College Roomate Duo �House O' Cat Turds ..and now, Castle Clusterfuck. First, there were two. Then Four. As of today, seven humans under the same roof, sharing four bedrooms. Fearing a cosmic catastrophe should the dreaded Eight Is Enough syndrome kick in... I have exited. Like A Complete Unknown. With No Direction Home. Feelin' like an Island. Going for 510 miles, 36 hours of work in three days. Wavering between paranoid and numb. 84 more miles to go. |
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