Still Not Carolina in My Mind

The closest I've been to a race track: Talladega Superspeedway on May 13.
The closest I’ve been to a race track: Talladega Superspeedway on May 13.

I don’t travel much any more, and I was a bit surprised at how much I enjoyed my recent nine-day sojourn through ten states. What I expected was that I’d have a wonderful time on the way out to the westernmost terminus, Gainesville, then get antsy and impatient on the way home. What surprised me was that I enjoyed the whole trip, right down to the mostly downhill incline from Asheville in which I listened to NASCAR’s Hall of Fame announcements on trusty satellite radio.

The difficult adjustment has been becoming a homebody again. Sometimes I go weeks without leaving Laurens County, but I was barely home from 2,864 miles on the road before I was off to a round trip to Columbia on Thursday night and one to Gaffney on Friday for lunch. Those two municipalities are about an hour’s drive, the state capital to the south-by-southeast and the home of The Big Peach to the north-by-northeast.

Instead of thinking, well, it sure will be great to sleep in my own bed, I sort of liked the ones at the Hampton Inns.

Several more trips to minor-league baseball games are in order.
Several more trips to minor-league baseball games are in order.

As a matter of fact, I’ve had a really difficult time getting back in the hometown groove. A Day and Night for VISTO, the charity concert I emceed, sort of scratched my guitar itch, and I went out Friday and played a few tunes at the local Mexican joint, where a man can tell Javier just to fix something I’ll like and, oh, yeah, bring me another “beeg beer.”

I drove back down the road to the house last Wednesday, and a lot of the mountain of obligations are still … obligating. It’s been dry, but the grass needs cutting. I finally did all the accounting stemming from my trip this morning and paid all the bills necessary to keep my electricity on and money flowing.

I came back from Texas et al. inclined toward the creative and against the nettlesome, and life, unfortunately, requires attention to the nettlesome. In the past few days, I’ve written some fun stuff, but there’s a stack of dishes in the sink and I’m low on underwear. Today’s a holiday. The bank, post office and trash dump are all closed. That’s my excuse for putting off stuff one more day.

At least the bills are paid. I’m going to put them in the mail even if they won’t go out till tomorrow. I need some groceries.

I’ll come around. What choice is there?


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