July 14, 2010
Originally published October 14, 2002
It's still dark outside, and I have most of my travelling stuff piled in the living room floor. A cold front is moving in today, and the temperature is supposed to be in the low 30s in North Georgia tonight. Good fireplace and campfire weather, but maybe not so good for sitting on the deck of the cabin and playing my guitar to the trees. Or playing that mountain golf course in Blairsville, either, but I'm taking my beloved Martin AND my sometimes-beloved King Cobras with me. I can always play guitar INSIDE the cabin, and if I don't touch the golf clubs, it won't be anything different from the last year and a half.
I've also decided to come back home next Friday. That way, I don't have to work out a change in my son's visitation with the despised ex-wife, and I'll have some time before I go back to work to complete at least some of the 500 things I should have done already but didn't. Besides, I'll probably be suffering the DTs of serious blog-withdrawal by then.
I'm kinda looking forward to the drive up there. I know all the back-roads and shortcuts between here and Athens (thanks to my days as a student at The University of Georgia) and I want to see if I can get from here to Blood Mountain in five hours. Unencumbered by a wife and a child, I won't have to stop for food (twice) and bathrooms (every 50 miles), so I believe that I can make the trip in a blue streak, as long as I avoid detection and detention by any local constabulary I encounter along the way.
I believe that speed limits are fungible rules, to be obeyed only if you have a good chance of being caught violating them. So, I drive fast. I intend to do that again today.
And I'll be back Friday evening, if all goes well.
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