Appalachia Year

I made a quality-of-life decision to go to Columbus to celebrate Ana's birthday tonight even though I'm mired in papers and reports and research and feel guilty every minute that I slack off and angry every minute that I'm industrious. Don't you die faster in quicksand when you struggle? I digress. In one of those "maybe there is a God and he HATES US" instances, Ana's boyfriend had to leave for Zambia for two years today of all days. Certainly a birthday where drinking is required for both revelry and sorrow.

I don't know if she knows it, but in 2005 when I was a wet baby bird splayed out on the pavement after an unsuccessful nest-jump, she swooped in and sorted me out. So I think that's worth a Tuesday afternoon drive down 33.