Tomorrow I am sitting my ass back down in the driver's seat, pointing the car north, turning on my beloved Glenda, and tuning out.
It's called Survival, and it's not just a TV show.
I have to get these people (um, I mean, my beloved grandmother and my two precious children) from Virginia to Rhode Island tomorrow, without hitting anyone or anything, and without leaving anyone at a rest stop.
I gotta be honest with you: I'm not feeling very confident.
So tonight, I went to Target (the "t" is silent here in paradise, I'm a fucking francophile when it comes to my retail) and stocked up on all the necessary supplies:
Crack. I MEAN CRACKERS. Goldfish crackers (2 kinds, because I am all about choices)
New coloring books
"Annie" (the movie)
what? SOMETHING MIGHT NEED TAPING.
So tomorrow, bright and early, please think of me. Please think of me, stuck in a small metal box, with the sun beating down, listening to non-stop inane chatter about a bunch of bullshit I seriously could not care less about, letting my grandmother tell me where to go and how fast to drive and how many miles we have driven and how many miles we have left and where the closest bathroom is and how to get the best gas mileage and why my cousins are so awesome, and pulling over to send threats in the general direction of the backseat (or possibly, the passenger seat, but for god's sake the woman is 84, let's show some respect.)
It's going to be a long, long, long ass day.
45 minutes ago