I never really plan more than two days ahead, which is probably good as my trajectory can change in a matter of minutes.
SO now I shall likely be on the East Coast in days — bypassing the cesspool of rural Appalachia, no less — as Jeff offered to retrieve me once I reach West Virginia, and I shall cat-sit his inexcusably cute cats in DC next week.
I miss Boston like an ache, deep and tangible and always heavy in my bones, but I miss DC like an itch. It’s been so long since I was there, and my years there were so very, very strange, but it’s under my skin; I miss the smells and the silhouettes, the late nights on the dirty streets. It’s always very weird going back.
And then I shall at last begin the climb up the Atlantic! DC –> Baltimore; Baltimore –> [waypoint] –> Philadelphia; Philadelphia –> [waypoint] –> New York City. Hang out in NYC for a bit, hopefully see some old friends and some new friends (including some members of my fucking amazing GISHWHES team), and th!en take off on the last couple hundred miles through New England! (“Last” being last until I take off back down south again, of course, but I should be in Boston for at least a little bit.)
I’ll miss this hostel, though I’ve barely been here over 24 hours so far. I’ve made a few friends — one of whom is currently sleeping under me, and another with whom I shared breakfast:
And because I am a child, I have spent the last several hours perched cross-legged on my bunk bed, seesawing between pretending I am reigning over my floor-level underlings and reminding myself that if I can’t even walk down stairs without my knees going crack on every step I probably shouldn’t swing myself down from the top bunk superhero style.
Mine is a barren but noble kingdom…
…consisting mostly of beer and Facebook. Shut up.
Back to Highway 40 tomorrow. There is a deep-seated hatred of Highway 40 fermenting in my bones that I suspect will remain with me for the rest of my life.