Seriously. I feel like I met myself coming and going this week. Thanks to the readers who’ve noticed my absence the past several days. The Red Man is a Man on the Move, thank you very much, and I’m afraid I’m suffering from truck lag. Oh my God, has anybody out there in cyberspace ever spent 16 1/2 hours riding in a pickup truck cab with a suspicious looking dog that has one brown eye and one blue eye, an old woman who can’t see but drives anyway and another woman who’s pretty but insists that moi stays in the back seat with the wild-eyed-sad-sack-dull-and-boring dog? Honestly, I’ve had the trip from Hell, and I’ve only partially recovered.
It all started going downhill Monday afternoon when Slow commenced to pack up her medicines and put them in the small green and black plaid bag she uses to transport her pills and eye drops. As soon as I saw her taking those pill bottles out of the medicine chest in the bathroom, I knew we were leaving. That old woman doesn’t dare stay anywhere without her pills. It’s pathetic, really pathetic. The older she gets, the more pill bottles she has to carry around. She’s got so many now they won’t all fit in the little green and black plaid bag any more. She had to put a few of the plastic brown bottles with the white caps in the regular suit case. I tried to tell her that was a mistake, but she pretended she didn’t hear me and went right on with it.
Pretty washed clothes while Slow packed pills and countless other items that just HAD to go with us to South Carolina, and then we all loaded up in the cab of the old Dodge pickup in the middle of Monday afternoon. Picture Granny and Jed Clampett and Jethro and Elly Mae in The Beverly Hillbillies on their way from Arkansas to California and you get the visual except they had more room in their vehicle than we did in ours.
I wasn’t particularly worried, though. I’m getting accustomed to being uprooted, and making the trip of a thousand miles from Texas to South Carolina isn’t too bad. I’m happy to go along with my Peeps on these little excursions. We ride for nine or ten hours the first day and then spend the night in a comfy king-sized bed with good tv channels in a deluxe suite in a discount inn. The next day we drive another six or seven hours, and voila, we arrive at our destination. So simple. No problemos.
How did things go so wrong this time??? We drove and drove and drove and drove some more. It took us four hours to get out of Texas. Texas is a big state, I’m talking BIG STATE, and we drove the back roads from thither to yon until we got to the Louisiana border. When we passed through Louisiana, I began to get a little nervous. Why wasn’t Slow calling the La Quinta Elite Peeps to make our reservation for the night? Hmmmmm…strange…but not to worry. I was sure we’d stay in our favorite hotel on the other side of Jackson, Missyprissy, because we all loved that place and I was so excited to think about the wonderful walk we’d have with Pretty before we settled in for the night.
Uh, oh. I saw the lights of this favorite hotel from the interstate as we breezed by without slowing down. It was late. It was late. Hey, it’s LATE! Why aren’t we stopping? I want my comfy bed with the plush pillows to lay my weary head on! Get me out of this truck and away from Mr. No Personality! I’m tired and sleepy and I can’t rest in this uncomfortable truck…help! Get me outta here, Percy, wherever you are!!!
Well, I’m sad to say that we left Missyprissy and then drove across Alabama – and then Georgia. We drove so far we lost an hour to the Great Time Changer in the Sky. And, speaking of skies, Pretty saw twenty falling stars on our drive that night. Yessiree, twenty of those uncommon phenomena in one night, if you can believe it. Slow saw four. Sigh. Anyway, that entertainment lasted until probably four a.m., and then nothing saved us from ourselves as we struggled the last long hours of our journey. I’m exhausted just remembering how I fought sleep so that I could stay awake with Slow and Pretty. Really, what would they do without me?
Sixteen and one half hours later we pulled into our gravel driveway at our house in Columbia. Chelsea and Annie were thrilled to see me but hid their true feelings by making much ado over Slow and Pretty, who looked bleary-eyed and unhealthy and much worse for the wear. Ollie, Mr. Smokey Lonesome from the back seat, was relieved and relieved himself in the back yard. I raced around the house and yard and saw that all was about the same as when I left, and it was good.
So, here I am in South Carolina once again. I have survived the trip from Hell and am happy to be home with my Peeps and my pups. By the way, Slow’s pills that she packed in the suitcase spilled and made a huge mess for her to sort through when she unpacked her things. I told her so.
More later, Sports Fans. Time to catch a few zzzzzz’s.
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