The getaway car is packed and I'm slipping away in the morning. Oh how I love being in a speeding car that's heading north. Toodling along on the edge of the continent. Windows down. Stereo on. Singing. Talking to myself, sometimes arguing. Smiling. Lots and lots of smiling. And watching the world whiz past my window. I. Love. To. Go. For. Drives.
Next week I return to my position as monkey whisperer. Going back to putting roundish thoughts into squarish heads.
Just a couple of flowers and a moon to show off before I light out.
The laptop is staying at home. I'm taking a book for company. This one:
Susan that night thought long and hard about the populace of solitude. About the dots of humankind, connected and not, strung through the weathered valleys and across the girth of prairie like constellations reflected on the ground.
Hold down the fort while I'm gone.