dump it, and send in the trumpet

March 24, 2011

Woe. I am sick, with the galloping snot again.

Fortunately it’s pouring plain old dogs here, no raindrop this size could ever be effectively compared to a cat or a teacup chihuahua; so I am planning on drinking seventeen cups of tea and lying in bed all day reading star wars novels and watching the latest episode of America’s next top model. I don’t know about you, but this sounds like the perfect day to me if there can somehow be some soup or orange sherbet in there without my having to haul my ass out of bed and around the corner to the market. Probably that is not feasible, as Alain is working and the cats are good for nothing but shredded treasures and guilt trips over brands of tuna fish. Oh well. Eventually I will shove on my platform sneakers and take myself out to the corner store for smooth riding edibles. Meantime, yay tea.

So I’m totally glad I didn’t wind up making it to Portland, as I cannot see myself doing such a great job of driving back to SF with the nostrils on full blast and the nyquil rattling around in my head like a rat who can’t figure out how to run inside the wheel and so it tries to run on top for about two seconds and then falls into the sawdust again. I am so making fun of the Dahkness right now. May she rest in peace.

I will still be coming up to Portland shortly anyhow. I have divined that gas, which has shot up abominably in price since I last paid any attention whatsoever, approximately three years ago, will cost about two hundred dollars round trip to and from Portland. This makes my knuckles jut out in bony fingered indignation, but hey apparently this is what everybody’s been so pissed about for so long while I was blissfully walking anywhere I wanted to go and forking over twenty dollars a month tops for gas for the odd grocery haul or family visit to Newberg. This realization of course totally restructures the happy little twenty four hour continuous monologue I had going wherein I drive up to Portland all summer whenever I want and everything is very cheap for everyone and my car stereo somehow mysteriously works and plays all soul soarers all the time, and it is always sunny. Now that I have learned the sad truth, the terrible thing about life, I am kind of feeling that airplanes are still the best way to go. It’s just…if every single way is going to cost money from the hundreds column, then only a great fool would choose the method that is costing and is also taking the longest. Unless of course a great fool wants one day to drive for ten hours on purpose to feel the wind through her hair, and then have her car in Portland for the shuttling around of one loved one at a time. I bet I could cultivate the world’s greatest torso only tan on that drive with the top down.

In other but highly related news, someone found my blog today by googling ‘how to get around driving through mt shasta.’ I am now officially a useful and informational blog. So there, doubters. I must


One Response to “dump it, and send in the trumpet”

  1. pisceanmoth Says:

    dahkness!!! …poor zelda


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