The amber engine light went off. Dandy. I think I gave it a bad tank of gas the day before, in search of a bargain, and gave my car indigestion for the trouble. It's better now, thanks. This is a long drive. A very long 2,5000 by one driver, who begins to wig out after ten hours at the wheel, making any leg longer than 12 hours or so unadvisable, and so slowing us--us, me, my car, my wiggy ego, my hypodepressive Id-- considerably. The travel days are accumulating. I'd thought that Monday in Houston would be easy; in reality, I'm hoping for Tuesday afternoon, without mechanical or spiritual breakdowns, en route.
And, oh--have I ever mentioned that I hate shitty hotel rooms? Cheap hotel rooms are just fine; nothing wrong with clean-but-thin linens and simple fixtures. But, it's when I pay north of a C note for a room with a carpet I don't want to walk on--and, oh yea, no view; I like a nice view of something other than the Applebee's parking lot--that I begin to wig....
And let YOU know all about it!