How come every time I write I am exhausted? The road is hard on a gal, especially when every night since graduation I've either a) slept on the floor; b) drank too much; c) slept on an inflatable mattress; or d) some combination of a, b, and c. So tonight I'm in the somewhat lo-fi, low budget Days Inn with the a/c cranked, in my pjs on a king-sized bed. My Chihuahua is beat and her breath is so bad. Note to self: get Phoebe's teeth cleaned immediately upon return to Portland.
Tiger and Allie showed us such a good time last night. I discovered that in North Carolina, when you order "roe" at the fancy sushi restaurant down the street, it's important to differentiate between "roe" and "roll", as apparently in North Carolina, "roe" and "roll" sound the same. Much drama and confusion insued. But a fun time was had by all, I got my roe, and the manager mistook Brett for a civil war reinactor, so the free sake was certainly appreciated.
I'm planning and scheming for life in Portland. So what if there are no jobs available right now? I've got the NCLEX to master. Plus I've got a little mini-vakay with my sister that I must shower my attention on. I'm feeling like it's going to be late October, November before this girl has a new job.
I still have this sort of fantasy of having a marghertia for breakfast at some point during my journey West. Of course, this only ever sounds good around happy hour every afternoon. Alcoholic beverages just aren't that appealing to me at 8am.
Oh, I'm so anxious to look at our photos! I've haven't had access to the Internet the last couple of days. I'm torn between continuing to write and perusing our photos. As far as actual road tripping today, my favorite/most terrifying moment was on the B.F. Buchanan scenic highway to Pikesville in the southwestern corner of Virginia when I had to pee so badly I pulled over on a lonely hill and hoped no vehicles would drive by. And it was especially exciting because several minutes before I had scared myself that the single vehicle that had passed us earlier, the one I fondly and affectionately named The Serial Killer Van, would turn around and somehow be on our tail, abducting all of us into the SW Virginia mountains never to be heard from again. Maybe I didn't share this information with Brett honestly; I joked about it like I thought it was funny, but actually I kind of freaked myself out for about 1/2 an hour. And squatting on the side of a lonely hill makes me feel all-the-more vulnerable.
It's time for bed.
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