I have not felt this way in a long, long time. I vaguely remember all-nighters from decades ago, but I forgot the specific feelings of disorientation and other ill effects of sleep deprivation. It has all come back to me now.
After tying up several loose ends at work Saturday morning, I headed home to pack. But first the carwash, the swing by the ATM and finally the gas station. Crap, the air machine at the Shell station was broken. I’ll deal with that later. Maybe it isn’t so important to have the tire pressure exactly 40 psi. At home, I hadn’t even started packing yet. The RainX needed to be applied on the windshield, music chosen for long hours on the road, and the wondering about what I’ve forgotten to think of since it’s now the last minutes before leaving town. Hopefully the wife and daughters were done packing and ready to squeeze what could be squeezed into the Camaro for the ride straight through to Maine. Continue reading