Worried cat

At the Motel 6 with Elvis

Hiding out

The sublet fell through during the last week of March, leaving me in a motel with my cat and my bicycle, wondering why I can't have comfort, security and free-spirited adventure, too.

There may have been a hobbit in my family woodpile:  there's a part of my mind that thinks adventures are nasty, inconvenient things that make you late for dinner.  Also, I have a tiny bit of hair on my toes.