Ch. 23


The rest of the sunny spring-time crispy mountain air day, I visited the library, did some janitorial chores on a website o' mine on the library computer.  Then I visited a bar and then a restaurant ~ dropped by a near-by Borders Book Store to buy something to read ~ ended up with a book on crows.  I bought a book on crows because Tom Dooley is a crow & one of my best friends.  In fact, I'm sure he'll be dropping by sooner or later in this very story about going to Prescott.

And then, and thennnnnnn, I read into the nite back at the motel ~ a Friday night ~ one I'd like to dedicate here & now to the young collegiates of traffic-chortling Flagstaff, AZ ~ God bless their jacking up the price of a motel room souls!

The following morning ~ I made my bed.  That's something you don't have to do when you're about to leave your motel room.  Yet I did it anyway ~ mainly so that I could spread out my stuff on the bed and view all my worldly treasures without the confusion of tossed and turned sheets, or lumped-up blankets.

After viewing all my stuff for a long moment, I tossed a few things into the trash can.  Some other stuff I left in the closest.  And then I packed everything away inside ye olde backpack.  All my worldly treasures ~ like my small stainless steel coffee pot without its innards, which I had inanely left in the chest-of-drawers back in Albuquerque.  And the two cans of speggetti I'd just bought at the nearby convenience store ~ I certainly did pack those inside my outfit!  And I filled with tap water my two half-gallon canteens made in China and bought at Walmart a few years back.  They certainly looked American!

The backpack had the shape of a big square box.  The damned thing was probably made in China too.  Blaintly speaking, it looked stupid.  I put it on.  It felt stupid.  I walked out the door and down the boulevard...

 

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