Hello, Panara, my old friend. I’m here to blog with you again.
The trip went smoothly. Ten hours of traveling–really, it was only a few minutes over ten hours that I consider it so–a lot of flat-out blasting down straight lines of highway in Indiana and Ohio, and a lot of twisting and turning on the Pennsylvania Turnpike. There were time when I felt like I was blasting right down the old Nurburgring again, though the huge number of cops would have prevented me from opening the throttle and hitting a hundred-plus.
Still, it was a good drive, and I managed a couple of pictures of passage through the first tunnel while R.E.M. was blasting on the stereo. There was something just slightly on the edge of surreal with that moment, but it’s what made it memorable.
I’m more or less set up now, safe inside my little room, with TV and Internet. I can catch up on Breaking Bad tonight, and watch Project Runway on Thursday. I’m sure by this time next week I’ll know if I did the wrong thing, or if I’m going to enjoy the next six months. Tomorrow may be a pain in the butt, since my main route into work is being worked up–everything here is being worked upon, it seems–so I’m going to look at a few alternates today. Driving through Hburg feels a lot like driving through Indy, though if I hadn’t known where the Panara was located, I wouldn’t have found it driving down I-83, because there wasn’t anything on the side of the road telling me the Panara was here. Hey, Penny, the rest of civilized world marks their eatery locations. We even do it in Indiana, but that might be for the benefit of the meth heads who are up all night after getting their Linlu on.
Duke is in the headphones, and I need to make a run to Costco and Target later today. After that . . .
We know what comes after that.
No editing was preformed in the course of the day, but I had too reason for that. Though for a moment I considered pulling over on the Penn Turn, hitting a service center, and powering up the laptop for an hour of getting through the current chapter. But, no: I’m not that crazy.
Thursday night I managed to edit about three thousand of the ninety-seven hundred words in Chapter Nine. It wasn’t until I started editing it the other night that I realized the chapter is as big as my smallest published story. It was just one of those things that kept growing as I wrote, because I needed to get a lot of information in the chapter, and it wouldn’t have done to split it into different sections. Which means this one chapter makes up almost one-fifth of the story–so I better get it right, yeah?
The feeling here is different. I still have my financial issues, and I really need to find a place to hole up that cheaper than my current digs.
But I’m on my adventure.
Now if I could get some sleep tonight . . .