Red Roof Inn

The road is a place of life and death. Road kill and condom slot machines.


That’s poetic bullshit.


Made it to Louisville KY. No damage to truck. Egos battered but that’s fine. I’m summarizing. We were considering fuck it just blaze to MN. Now I feel the brain fatigue.


Couple therapy to transport dog cat and 22 foot box of stuff with car behind. One way into oncoming traffic.


I tell myself. Soften, self.


My old boss sent an email saying I give too many As. A bad omen to start a trip, I think. Lady you are like one of those wasps you smack but they still wriggle. Kate says take the high road.


Litter. Check. Do you think the animals are okay in the car. We’re towing them. I think they’re having a wonderful time, dear.


Damn. Next time let’s pay someone to move. Or not move. Or sell everything and only keep what fits in a backpack.


I was going to not write because it’s late but I wrote. Now to write that high road email to boss.