My true love didn’t give me squat. Atreyu gave me a big ol’ kiss on the nose, though. I think he found a booger, because he was very satisfied.
In a few hours, I will embark upon the 32-hour drive back to the Mile High City. I can’t tell you how excited I am.
Before I leave, though, I would like to remark upon the zillion things I have worried about in prepping for this adventure:
1. Tires. I’ll be driving through cold weather, and I checked my tires. My front ones were bald. Like, way bald. My back tires were cracked. I wanted to survive this trip, so I had to buy new tires. Then I had a heart attack because tires are really, really expensive. Now I’m worried because the lady said they are “really good for snow” AND WHAT IF I DON’T DRIVE THROUGH ANY SNOW?!?!?!
And then I remember that she sold me tires that were cheaper than the ones I had on my car before, by five bucks a tire. And I worry that I have shitty tires. So now, maybe, I’ll crash and be stranded because my tires were not $155 a pop. Was she trying to give me the best deal AND get me the best tires? Or was she stiffing me and my tires will fall off as soon as I hit the highway? These are my very serious concerns.
2. Coldness. I’m not a big fan of driving in freezing weather, because I like to drive fast. But Whitney, I hear you say, driving fast? Doesn’t that worry you? And of course it does. But know what I hate more than driving fast? Being stuck in my car on a 32 hour road trip for any longer than I have to be. So if it’s freezing and the roads are icy, I will probably have a panic attack about having to spend more time in the car. Also, I am terrified I will spin out and be trapped on I-80 in the middle of nowhere and Atreyu and I will have to snuggle and hibernate to survive. He will eat me after his food runs out. I will let him, because I’m a good pet owner.
3. Money. Gas, hotel, gas, gas, gas, gas, gas, gas, gas. Tolls. Ugh, I can’t even. Driving across country is like having the government reach into your pocket, take your money, and then smack you in your face with it, and then having to watch them put it in the g-string of the dirtiest stripper in the history of the world (think, one tooth, bald patches, crazy eyes, and literally covered in dirt) and then smacking you in the face with it, again.
4. The very distinct possibility that I will go insane. The thing about road trips by yourself means you have no one to talk to about anything. I can talk to Atreyu, and I’m 90% sure he understands me, but I’m also 100% sure that he can’t respond in any meaningful way other than his prolific burping ability or the sad puppy eyes that he gives me when I have to put him in his kennel. So I’ll talk to myself. A lot. And I’ll find myself having very meaningful conversations, or debates–let’s be real here–about various things. And that’s when the crazy hits, and I arrive home with birds in my hair and a pack of new “friends” sitting in the backseat, whom I picked up hitchhiking near a correctional facility.
Already reading this over, and “whom” doesn’t look like a word. I’m so, so screwed.