tigerpants's Diaryland Diary

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I�m just a little obsessed with something kind of strange. I�ve decided that it�s a brilliant idea to drive from where I live now to where I grew up in order to pick up the rest of my possessions that didn�t make it out here during the first trip. You have to understand that these two locales are roughly 3000 miles apart. And yes, I still think it�s a good idea. This is not going to be a fun trip. I have no intention of making it touristy, which is what�s been scaring off my friends. I don�t blame them for that. Driving cross-country is dull, and hot, and dull. There�s only so much entertainment a DVD-playing computer can provide.

There�s a catch, though, that I think is important, and worth considering. My father is bored in his retirement. He�d never admit it, and does, indeed, like being retired. He�s had time to pursue his interests, such as woodworking, scuba diving, and flying. It�s this last one that�s really the problem. You see, my father keeps threatening to pack up my possessions and fly them out here to me. Sounds nice, huh? Very considerate of my dad to spend chunks of money on renting the plane, the fuel, the hotels, blah, blah, to bring me my stuff. Yeah, my dad�s OLD. Really OLD. Like, he has no idea how OLD he is. He�s already tried to fly out here once, back in April. He made it all the way to the next state before he backed into a pole trying to refuel, broke the plane, and had to turn back. After 2 days of repairs. After successfully missing my birthday. On top of that, he�d never actually ASK me which items I�d want out here. He�d just go through my stuff, pull out some random pieces, and bring those. Even if I sent him a list. He�s just that kind of a guy. He�d try to be helpful, but it would just go badly. Trust me. This is the man who decided one day to package up my high school ring and my Bat Mitzvah jewelry and mail them to me, after insuring them for $100. I didn�t need them and I didn�t ask for them. He just went into my room and found them, and decided I�d want them. That was 6 years ago. And no, they haven�t yet arrived.

So this isn�t really a road trip so much as it�s a rescue mission. I have to go in, get my stuff out of those evil clutches, and get out. I�m like Sydney on Alias. No, really. Ask me about tracking down the guy who hit my car one day. No, the second guy. Not the third accident. Oy. Pay attention. Anyway, it�s my current obsession. My poor little books and trinkets, trapped in a land of fear and confusion. Don�t be afraid, little fraternity mugs and band medals! Help will be there soon!

Next time: What is UP with the people who stayed behind for the hurricane? You get the part about the 145 MPH winds, right? You�re not doing anything for Florida�s national image, people. Trust me on that.

� 2004 Tigerpants Nation (Rebecca Gross)

12:16 p.m. - 2004-08-16

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