barked at!

MapQuest failed to note that one of the roads I was on had undergone a name change, so I had to stop at an RV park and confirm I was still heading in the right direction. The lady who ran the place was very gracious despite my serious reekage (the backpack itself is beginning to acquire a stink), and I made it to the Motel 7 West in Castle Rock with no further trouble.

Except for one guy. He drove by me in one of those retro-looking Plymouth Thingamajigs and actually barked at me-- a sharp series of woofs.

In every case where someone yells out the window at me, the yeller is a guy, from his teens to his twenties. Just a reminder that we men are generally stupid creatures, prone to doing stupid things for stupid reasons or, as is often the case, for no reason at all.

I was once again limping by the time I got into my motel room ($48/night plus tax), and when I peeled off my right sock I saw a big ol' blister on my pinky toe. Gotta take care of that.

Gotta air out the tent, too-- damn. Forgot to do that last night.


_