so we pulled into a super 8 in beautiful sunny Millbury, Ohio.
Only sixty three dollars a night for law, order, hot water, and white, cheesy pizza.
I wonder how long I'll listen to this electric heater mill generations of humidity. Trusting this cave of semen stained cotton weave to taco me up tight. We are shredded and limp. Nothing to do but sleep. We are trying to get home from beautiful sunny DC in our four door Honda with our hand written lists of goals and affirmations.
If you have enough money for an impromptu night in a super 8 you are officially an adult.
The front desk person had a tattoo of a tiny sailboat on her index finger.
We describe our surroundings as best we can in an effort to realize our mortality.
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