One conquered algebra final, 382 miles, and seven hours of driving later: I am DEAD.
Oasis for the night.
But I am happy — SO HAPPY — that I pushed past the 101 to the 580 all the way to the 5, as now I will only have six hours to go tomorrow, meaning I will probably miss Los Angeles rush hour traffic which will be BEAUTIFUL considering I wasted nearly two hours of my life in the Bay Area’s tonight.
Can’t believe this unsightly exit used to mean “home”.
Would you believe me if I said that the song I designated as my Humboldt Departure tune this morning started playing (out of a playlist of EIGHT HUNDRED) the moment I passed out of the Humboldt County line? Because it’s true. I started cheering. I had goosebumps. My life is sometimes unreal. Thank you Eyedea for soundtracking a glorious moment of my life.
I had so many beautiful words to share earlier. As I drove and drove and drove, lovely thoughts wove in my mind. I kept lamely telling myself to just wait just wait just wait, once you get to a hotel you’ll be able to write and feel creative and worthwhile and brilliant, as there is no greater high and self contentment that comes from writing, but now that I’m here in my gritty shady interstate-side motel with my exhaustion weighing me down all those words have melted and are far gone.
You know it’s time to call it a night and quit the drive when you giggle a pretend villainous giggle after reaching 100 on the speedometer but then you’re so amused by your childish ways and lame-o giggle that you REALLY actually start laughing and you’re laughing so hard and raging past wavering semi trucks and the valley’s gusts are pushing you from side to side and your laughing and laughing and coughing from the laughing and then you look down and realize you’re going 112 and that’s just plain ass stupid especially considering that you hadn’t even been LOOKING at the road during the last forty-second laughter fest of idiocy.
So you get off at the next exit and check in and take a shower and blog about it.
I’m passing out now.