Not For Lack of Effort...

I can feel the train outside vibrating through the wooden table that my propped up legs rest on as I sit reclined. I'm inside yet another 10 by 16 foot rental box for the evening and as much as I like to complain, it is pretty nice. Fifty dollars split between three people as I watch USA soccer battle it out against Ghana with a cold Yuengling in my hand; what the hell do I really have to complain about?

This wasn't originally how it was supposed to work out. I sent out CouchSurfing messages for the town of Groton last night. Going to the bathroom to check my phone this morning, I had two responses; one from a woman named Jacqueline and one from a guy named Kyle. Both of the persons sounded like really awesome people. Kyle sounded really enthusiastic about having us and Jacqueline was out of town. Jacqueline said we could have the house to ourselves... so, we chose the place with the most freedom.

On the way out of Westborough, I had a lovely conversation with the lady kind enough to give us a home. She sounded wonderful, the situation was wonderful, and once again, I wanted to ensure she had my trust.

 Jacqueline was in Memphis, Tennessee for a business meeting in the blistering Southern heat, cooking at 95*. Here in Groton, it was around 85*.

"You sure you can make it all the way to Groton?" she asked.

"Oh yeah. We're late bloomers, not quite kids of the morning sun yet. Something we're working on. Something we've been working on all our life", I joked.  

"Well, okay. If you think so."

Fast forward three hours and a bunch of miles later through gorgeous scenery. 

Jacqueline sends me a message. First, I copied and pasted Jackie's message into our group chat. Here is the direct text-messaging quotations from our group chat:

Me: Hey Ralph.  It's Jacq.  My address is Bingo Bango, Groton, CT. I live on the top floor of a large green duplex, at the corner of Louie St and Raymond St.  If you go in the back door, off the driveway (my beige CRV should be in the drive way) go up the stairs.  Opposite of my door, is a door to the attic.  If you open that door to the attic, there should be a spare apartment key in the bottom right hand corner up against the wall, resting on the trim.  

Mike: Lmao

Mike: Connecticut?

Me: ...oh no

Yeah, that kinda drained my mental cavities. 

I'm tired.

 

On top of Sawyerhill Rd. on the way to the towns of Harvard, Berlin, and Bolton. The climb was long but the view (as always) was breathtaking.

Thought this was the Harvard local library. Turned out to be one of the buildings for the high school where the students are free to move about to and fro from class. Harvard constantly scores at the highest levels for high schools in the state. Also, this isn't the "Harvard" Harvard. That one's in Cambridge. 

Halfway on my way to Groton from Avery, I learned Jacqueline lived in Connecticutt. I sat here for two hours, reading, and trying to figure out what to do.

I think I'll go to bed now.