I like driving, even though I'm not so great at it. I'm irrationally terrified that I will be the victim of a drive-by shooting. I'm not that interesting, and mostly I like talking about summer camp. I fully plan to live in a hotel someday. Best case, I live in the plaza where I'll be just like Eloise. The fact that she's six doesn't matter. Worst case, I'll live in the Miami Motel. It's alright though, because right outside the door is a lawn chair where you can sit all day and watch the parking lot and an abandoned highway that's past its glory days. I'm sure that's a metaphor for something.
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