Tonight, I am going to ride a choo-choo train. Tomorrow, I am going to ride a choo-choo train. Tomorrow night, I am going to ride a choo-choo train. The day after tomorrow, I will be in California, sick to death of choo-choo trains. I was going to make the trip with a friend of mine, but she backed out on me, so it’ll just be me, myself, and the hammered dulcimer I won’t entrust to airline baggage handlers. And maybe I’ll make a train friend – an old man who repeatedly asks why I’m not married, or a 10-year-old kid who wants to know what I’m writing and if I’ll lend out my gameboy. Those are always fun.
I’m’a go finish packing now, and I’ll see you in lalaland.