I've been absent for a few days because I spent my week driving to Indiana, then turning right around and driving back to Iowa which, of course, forced me to drive to Indiana again. In other words, I drove nearly 2,000 miles and managed to get absolutely nowhere.
I have never been so sleep-deprived, so exhausted, so stressed and confused. I have never been more clueless. I have never abused my body more; the mileage I drove in three days astounds me nearly as much as the amount of caffeine I ingested in order to do so. For a few days, I survived on Mountain Dews, on sugar cookies and Monsters and obnoxious Christmas music.
Had you passed me on the Interstate, on those deadline-friendly roads, you would have seen me lounged in the seat--feet off the pedals, cruise control on. I'd be bopping my head to Jackson 5's "Frosty the Snowman" and singing the lyrics excruciatingly and deliberately off-key. I'd also have my right hand on the steering wheel, maneuvering between SUVs and semis while my left hand dug into a box of Goldfish Crackers.
I was gluttonous. Tired. Ridiculous. Reminiscent. Exhausted.
I was driving.
That being said, the last few days have been incredibly hectic. I haven't been able to piece together my thoughts, my time, my goals. I can't give anyone a straight answer, but I can sing the entirety of "The Twelve Pains of Christmas." I can also provide you with these images--ones that I took during my last night at home. It had snowed the day before, and the trees, bushes and streets were blanketed with white magicalness.
And, yes, I know that "magicalness" is not a real word. But, given my tiredness and inability to remember exactly what time zone I'm in, I'm going to pretend it is. I'm also going to pretend that I have provided you with an appropriate valediction.