Writing again in (almost) real time.

The process of dropping the massive truck, and the cargo van, and replacing them, and getting good coffee in the meantime, and a little banking, lasted well into the hours after noon this day. By about three I was able to leave and retrace the slow steps much more expeditiously.

I made a traditional stop, described elsewhere, at the edge of the Black Range, and another for coffee. Then down in the capital, a non-traditional stop at an REI, looking in vain for new house slippers, and more successfully for certain half-ass camping-out solutions to the problems of showering without a shower, and pooping without a functional toilet, in the presumably very short term before the water can go back on.

Then another traditional one, for the pollo asada at Tres Betos. Finally a slew more, for old mail, for gas, for water, remnants of a fading norm. And then “home” to the largely gutted rental, the rarely slept-in second bed, the lonesome kitty. I’m there now and I’ve caught myself. It’s two in the morning and that is when I planned to be asleep–it’ll just be a minute now.

Just a minute now, any minute now …