That Traveling Life

At the moment, I am not stationed in Southpaw Industries; as a matter of fact, this post is being written from the dark sitting room of a Holiday Inn in the Panhandle. It’s a bit creepy–I appear to be the only one down here and keep imagining a clown will come bursting through the Exit door on my right.

But enough of my irrational fears. We’re here to talk about stuff.

I have been traveling, cramped and grumpy and extremely constipated, in a small Volkswagen all across this great state of Oklahoma–any of you reading from Oklahoma, gimme a big high-five, ’cause I was born there.

Off the radar and out of wireless connection is where I have spent these last three days, my  only eating choices being fried meat…or fried vegetables. BLECCHHH! Excuse me, have to wipe some puke off the keyboard. Does anyone else think this is starting to sound like the beginning to a really effective horror movie? No? Just me?

Oklahoma is actually a great place. There’s tons of bathrooms: you step behind a tree and…you know; and if you’re ever searching for well-done chicken fried anythings, the millions of Cracker Barrels will fix you up like that.

I could do without the crappy gas station restrooms, specifically the toilet seat off which someone forgot to wipe their piss, making it look like a sparkling yellow platter of snow. That, and the constant spitting of tobacco everywhere–I feel like I have to imitate Michael Jackson to avoid those white stains.

Whoo, boy, I tell ya.

A side note: this is the second hotel in three nights. Lord help me if I have to sleep on another spring trapped mattress, that, when I wake up in the morning, leaves these swirling spring marks on my chest. I’m not an X-Man, and I have no desire to be.

Thankfully, this’ll be it for the week, then it’s back to Southpaw Industries, where I will sit and eat Twinkies and Ding-Dongs–and do none of that because, in actuality, I am quite healthy and am obsessive compulsive when it comes to running. Go figure.

I better get out of this sitting room before someone suspects I’m a creep who looks at his laptop in dark rooms.

Oh, wait.

Think daily,

A Southpaw

Note: Apologies for the lateness, but I was attending a funeral the past few days and had little time to sit down and plug out one of these posts. Hope you all are doing well.

 

 

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