Between a new job, going to school, and using friends as guinea pigs to practice my massage technique, I am more exhausted than usual. I remembered my vitamins (after I found them finally, the bottles seem to disappear for weeks at a time), I’m trying to remember my body mechanics, I’m trying not to forget I need to set aside a day to take my sisters out; there’s a lot of things on my to-do list lately and it never stops growing.
Yesterday, I worked on a friend, and tomorrow, I’m doing more work. But today, I did nothing but sleep, and eventually go downstairs with a purpose. Purpose being: I needed to get my Jeep running again. I have an old Jeep Cherokee, one that, while the original owners took care of it, is still old and needs more work, and I swear there are gremlins living in the engine feeding off the battery from places I haven’t looked in yet. I will get you, gremlins, mark my words.
So, once I got it running and put some gas in it, I was gone. I drove out to Olema and turned left. I followed all signs leading to San Francisco along Highway 1, and ended up in Mill Valley. The last time that happened, it had been New Years eve and I’d been with my friend Kevin, and we had no idea (at the time) that one odd turn could spit us out in Mill Valley. I’d forgotten that.
Instead of “drive it around for an hour” like my dad had told me to do, I ended up driving for three hours before I got home. It was supposed to be a quick drive, but it’d been months since I last drove my Jeep (reasons being: broke college student and no job at the time), so I really didn’t want to get out of it.
Also, it was nice to be able to see out of all my windows and not feel like I’d be run over by every other car bigger than my dad’s Honda. I don’t like small cars. I like my deathtrap on wheels, thank you very much.