Tuesday

(This blog is a continuation of a freewrite that I started based on the above article a friend sent me a while back.)

The black top faded into grey top as I crossed the Ohio state line. I wondered how strict the state troopers were over here, and sweated for a minute as my red needle inched dowm from ninety to sixty. It's been along time since I listened to country. Some people don't like country. Some people can't appreciate the culture, grit, and nostalgia of a good western song that doesn't have too much pop in it. Well, some people aren't in this car. It's just me and George Strait.

Speaking of needles inching down, that E is looking way too close for comfort. I see a Shell station ahead and wonder if they still have those awesome coconut flags my mom and uncle used to get for me. Turns out I'm in luck. They also have charming cashier who looks just about exactly ten years younger than me. I've never seen such golden skin that didn't look too taunt or rubbery. But his eyes are way too blue.

"It should have all worked out but it didn't . . ."

Nope. I need something more . . .

"Is there life out there? There's so much . . ."

There we go. Less sappy. More adventurous. And Ms. McIntyre is perfectly followed by

"Bye a one-way ticket on a west-bound train, and see how far I can go . . ."

But blue sky adventures have to be saved for another day, I guess, as the rain pelts me out of nowhere through my open window. It's only March, but it WAS unseasonably warm. By ten o'clock I don't feel like driving any more. I feeling like tip-toeing through a random dive off of 51. It's Called Motel 5 and there are paintings of turtles everywhere. There's even a silver turtle on a chain around the neck of the receptionist.
She checks me in. I left everything in the car - everything I own except for one small overnight back.

The tepid water feels great on my back, but the feeling of it running down my face is too familiar. It reminds me when I still used to cry. Before I realized that it didn't help. I realized no one was listening. Not until it was too late. I towel off and slip into my forty dollar night gown from Victoria Secret.

Thank god they at least have cable TV in this not-originally-brown carpeted place. I flop down on the bed and flip through the channels. Late night distracts me for a while. "Later" night distracts me even further. It's ALMOST enough of a comfort for me to go to sleep without those wheels in my head spinning.