I'm HOME!

My drive back was mostly uneventful -- until my navigator decided to save me about five bucks in tolls on the Pennsylvania Turnpike and hauled me over every back road in PA and MD. Although I was reduced to driving 45 mph, it didn't bother me because my arrival time didn't change. What did bother me is that those back roads didn't have any rest stops. That necessitated a stop on a dark stretch of road. I hate that, not only because of the surveillance cameras and spy satellites that are everywhere, but because of the bears -- and werewolves, and vampires and zombies. And me with my gun and silver bullets at home. When I was in high school, I wrote a short story about a scientist in the future (come to think of it, it was around this time) who invented a time machine to get away from silver bullets. As luck would have it, he went into the past and the first person he encountered was the Lone Ranger, who immediately dispatched him. I thought about that short story as I stood with big, full moon overhead. At one truck stop, I picked up an energy drink in a bottle about the size of my thumb. After I slugged it down, I didn't exactly feel like busing tables at Cracker Barrel but I didn't blink until I was almost home. Almost. As I got onto the George Washington Parkway, I hit a brick wall. The GWP is a winding road through a heavily-wooded area populated by deer that like to jump in front of cars -- and werewolves. That's also where Ft. Marcy Park is located, the place where Vincent Foster "committed suicide." So, I got home at exactly the minute my trip computer said I would, no big trick, since the computer updates the information every second, so it can never be wrong. After a 16-hour drive I just wanted to hit the hay. No matter how good the vacation, I always enjoy sleeping in my own bed. Why have nightmares in a motel room when I can have nightmares in my own bed? First thing this morning, I picked up Ginger and Gwen. Their hotel bill was bigger than mine. I took them home and then went to PetSmart to stock up on food. While I was there, I got another cat. Yup. It's a male named Maverick (or Mavrik, if you're a high school dropout working at PetSmart). He's about a year old and judging from the size of his paws, he'll grow up to be a mountain lion. When I first saw him, he was purring in his sleep. I figure any animal that enjoys sleeping that much is the pet for me. He's exploring ever corner of the apartment, while Gwen and Ginger are observing him from hiding. Ginger is doing her usual Little Engine that Could impression, hissing and huffing and puffing, but Maverick is not intimidated the way Gwen is. He just wants to play. Time for an afternoon nap. I wonder how that will go.