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home again home again
So I think that home is the place where, when you get off the freeway there after ELEVEN HOURS, you nearly weep with happiness to see stupid things like the IHOP and familiar highway signs, because you are home.
The drive back down from Boston wasn't really bad, except a) I was driving AWAY from Boston, WTF is that? and b) I got stuck sitting in an accident backup in New Jersey for about two hours. When I finally got there, they had two lanes blocked off with big barrier trucks, and there were six state police cars in those two lanes, plus a couple of other vehicles in the median, but the only sign that there had been an accident was something that looked like a street-sweeper, clearing up the last of the mess. I listened to the first half of Les Miserables while staring at the truck in front of me with the F#%* FRANCE! bumper sticker, and then I called![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
iuliamentis and talked to her for an hour. By the time I got out of the backup it just didn't seem worth stopping again when it would only make getting home slower, so I just. Didn't. Drove the last 250 miles straight through.
I got home, waved my ID card nonchalantly at the security guards, checked my mail (oooh, a phone bill) and headed up to my apartment, dark and quiet but for the strip of light visible under Roomie's door. I wandered around getting settled and making myself a tasty dinner of ramen noodles, and then sat down to the omg yaymidsummer_fic stories! I haven't read more than a handful yet, but I absolutely adore the Men With Brooms story written for me: Trajectory. It's teenaged Cutter and Lennox, back before they'd quite begun to become the men we knew them as, and it's wonderful.
The drive back down from Boston wasn't really bad, except a) I was driving AWAY from Boston, WTF is that? and b) I got stuck sitting in an accident backup in New Jersey for about two hours. When I finally got there, they had two lanes blocked off with big barrier trucks, and there were six state police cars in those two lanes, plus a couple of other vehicles in the median, but the only sign that there had been an accident was something that looked like a street-sweeper, clearing up the last of the mess. I listened to the first half of Les Miserables while staring at the truck in front of me with the F#%* FRANCE! bumper sticker, and then I called
iuliamentis and talked to her for an hour. By the time I got out of the backup it just didn't seem worth stopping again when it would only make getting home slower, so I just. Didn't. Drove the last 250 miles straight through. I got home, waved my ID card nonchalantly at the security guards, checked my mail (oooh, a phone bill) and headed up to my apartment, dark and quiet but for the strip of light visible under Roomie's door. I wandered around getting settled and making myself a tasty dinner of ramen noodles, and then sat down to the omg yay
midsummer_fic stories! I haven't read more than a handful yet, but I absolutely adore the Men With Brooms story written for me: Trajectory. It's teenaged Cutter and Lennox, back before they'd quite begun to become the men we knew them as, and it's wonderful.