Displaced

But not really. I'm at the Prof's house, and it's lovely and tranquil and all is well, except…I have horrible writer's block. It's paralyzing. I have so much to talk about and absolutely no connection between my brain and my typing fingers.

I could talk about the play, and all the ridiculousness involved. I could talk about the trip to Syracuse, which…WAIT! I've got it!!!! Here's how I spent my four hours on the way to Syracuse:

ME: Are we there yet? I have to pee. Do we have enough gas? I'm bored. Are we there yet? When do I get to see a cow? I thought there were cows in upstate New York! What about piggies? If you don't answer me, I'll go through all of "Old McDonald Had a Farm" till you do. You know that McDonalds we had a couple of miles ago? It didn't agree with me. Is it time for MY iPod yet? I'm bored. Are we there yet? Where's the Red Bull? Yes I know I've had three, what's your point?

The Prof: (thinking) I could have lashed her to the roof, that would have worked too.

Oh, did I mention that I haven't had a cigarette in a week? That might have something to do with it as well.

I need another lollypop.

More tomorrow, kittens. I swear.


Comments

Displaced — 4 Comments

  1. I am remarkly similar on road trips. My husband has a fairly strict “no talking rule now” unless he’s the one who decides to talk…lol! He’s really not a tryrant, it’s just the only way to keep his sanity with all the hours we log traveling.
    My iTouch and TV shows on iTunes quickly became my best friends for travel 🙂

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