The long road back to Brunswick

The trip to Valdosta is over and no one is dead. At least from my party.

It was a long trip in a tiny car with two people who don't seem to have any real interest in extended conversation and one person who talks so much that there were three distinct moments where I thought about plunging my pen into my ears just to get some sweet release and maybe some silence. I don't mind talking. In fact, I do quite a bit of it myself with some degree of success. But there comes a point where a person's brain has to be telling them that what is coming out of their mouth isn't witty, funny, clever or profound. Ever. Thank God that on most trips my brain shuts down fifteen minutes in and I sleep most of the way.

Two hours to Valdosta. Three hours at convention. One hour at lunch. Two and a half hours on the road back due to bad weather.