First.  Here's Part I.  It's worth it.      

I'm mad cause I really had a plan for this afternoon.  Not a life-altering min-bending docket of intrinsically rewarding tasks, but . . . you know . . . close! 

First I was going to write at the local bar by my house.  At 3pm they are tapping a special cask beer, the arrival of which has been announced for the past week in large chalk lettering on a board hanging from the wall. It's all *COMING WEDNESDAY!*  And I'm all, "So am I!" 

I also am fairly certain my writing would have been immensely productive when I got to the bar.  Drinking all that sweet sweet cask beer.  Writing like I just discovered the meaning of words.

After that it was going home to clean the kitchen.  I have pots and pans that aren't going to scrub themselves and I don't want my wife to end up doing it. 

But instead I'm in Montague, MA.  And I'm MAD!!!!  Don't get me wrong, Montague's beautiful. Hell, I drove all the way out here to sit by a waterfall and write to the placid white noise of a rushing stream.   But it is a good 40 minutes north of our house to get to Montague.  Middle of nowhere.  Part of its charm.

But it is a super shitty place for your car keys to decide they are just bent enough to no longer send to "ignition code" to the engine that allows my car to FUCKING START!!!!!  So I have stranded myself in the boonies, needing rescuing.  

And yah.  My wife awesome. She's going to come get me.  But that means she's now driving 45 minutes home from work, to look for the keys, to drive 40 minutes out to me, to drive 40 minutes home.  

That. Totally. Sucks. Anus-cakes. 

Instead of getting a clean kitchen, I got her a road trip.  And that SUCKS. And I'm pissed.  My car is just sitting there, in perfect working order, another 1000 miles til its next oil change, and one of the two keys that makes it go is in my pocket.  With me.  And I'm still totally fucking stuck.