... there's travel under the gun. According to the glorious Google Maps, it's 613 miles from my address to my son's new address in West Chester, PA. On Saturday, my son and my daughter and I drove that and then moved his worldly goods into said new address; then, yesterday, after sleeping six hours, my daughter and I drove back. Today, I'm taking the day off. I don't want to see any highway today, either ... interstate, "turnpike," or otherwise.
I am now officially too old for this stuff.
5 comments:
How do you like Westchester?
Oops, I guess that's two words
Impossible - road trips are part of our cultural heritage. Where's your covered wagon spirit?
Craig: I can't say I was in West Chester long enough to form much of an opinion -- I was there for less than 12 hours, during most of which it was dark outside, and I slept through about six of those hours. For a Saturday night, I thought it seemed extremely quiet; the sidewalks were pretty much rolled up. By comparison, Fort Wayne is a jumpin', happenin' place.
lemming: I agree; the fault is mine. I'm just getting too doggone OLD for the busy life. Covered wagons should be operated by young folk, filled with the proverbial "piss and vinegar."
Thanks for showing me what parents have to look forward to. :)
You will, of course, be coming to Los Angeles next year, right?--we at the Gingerbread House and Canoga Park certainly hope so!
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