It’s 9:32. I should be somewhere around the Georgia-South Carolina border. Where am I? I am in my chair, drinking coffee and reading the news. It is the first day of my vacation and I refuse to be rushed into it. I set my alarm for 6 a.m. and promptly decided to ignore it. My plan was to leave for Ocean Isle at 7 a.m. I slept in until 8:30. I still have packing to do. Life is good.
I realize that I will regret my sloth later on in the day. The drive is somewhere north of six-and-a-half hours. I could’ve knocked a quarter of that out already and been there before 2 p.m. As it is, I’m looking at closer to dinner time and probably will have to deal with a rush hour somewhere. Does Myrtle Beach have a rush hour? I wonder.
Anyway, my secondary goal was to be out of here by 10. I have 24 minutes to pack and load the car.
I do not foresee this happening. I still have a half-pot of coffee and I’m feeling just fine with myself right now. Maybe I’ll try to leave around 11. I guess I should probably Google up some directions, huh?