The comforts of home

I finally found a Starbucks in Wilmington, and it only took me 2 days. (That's a lie; it took me about 24 hours. I gave up hope of just running across one this afternoon and stopped at a Howard Johnsons for directions. When in doubt, ask a taxi driver, a hotel desk clerk or, in a pinch, a cop.) This place is ridiculous, though (or else I am). I've driven up and down the main road 17 times and I still can't figure out whether I'm heading into or out of town. The traffic is insane and the dogs are ever blocking my side mirror with their giant heads. I guess the up-side is that when I finally get into the accident that's nothing less than thoroughly inevitable, my tank of a van will probably be no worse for the wear. I might not even notice (I can be pretty oblivious that way).

In any case, I found a Starbucks and a Barnes & Noble (the Wal-Mart hardly needed finding; one thing I've discovered: the Wal-Mart is always right there. Wherever you are, there it is.) These aren't really the places I had in mind, as far as hang-outs on the trip, but they're extremely comforting after wandering around lost all day in a strange city. I stopped at a coffee shop called Port Java (huh?) and ordered a hot chocolate. "Do you want marshmallows and whipped cream?" she asked me. Well, duh... It would've been a reasonably pleasant outing except that a dog happened by, and you can imagine the ensuing chaos. The owner turned around and walked back the way she came, then fifteen minutes later drove up and petulantly informed me that she lived near by and walked her dog that way several times a day, and that she was 8 months pregnant. I'm still not sure what the relevance of her pregnancy might have been, but she seemed to think it very important, because she repeated it several (like fifteen) times. She kept whining until I asked her what, exactly, she wanted me to do, to which she responded that it would be nice if I were to take the dogs across the street when she came by. Sure lady, whatever. I guess I don't blame her for being annoyed (yeah, I sort of do), but I definitely hold her responsible for being a whiny little bitch. I can't imagine what it must be like to know her, or, God forbid, be married to her. "I'm pregnant," must be her constant refrain.

Also, I'm out of papers. I think I saw a tobacco shop somewhere, but I think it highly unlikely that I'll be able to find it again.

Whatever. Tomorrow I'm going to the beach. Reuben's never seen the ocean!