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I still cannot understand whatever attracted you to him last year. Was it just a phase you were going through, or some kind of temporary insanity? The guy never takes a shower, and since he has started growing whiskers, he chooses not to shave. My God, he doesn't change his sweat socks until they are good and stiff. And- when he's awake- he constantly complains how he's so tired, even though he never really does anything. I really can't see the attraction. You'll have to tell me sometime. I really need to know, because

Ohmigod, now what?

Okay, we had a technical problem there, which is a gross understatement, because what apparently happened was that our transmission dropped out of the car. There was this huge bang, and then dad lost control of the car, which ended up in a ditch. Everyone's all right, though; my mom, riding in the death seat, still seems pretty bored, Mike finally woke up, and my dad is all pissed off, but at least there was no blood or gore or broken bones.

About four hours has passed since I broke off this letter, and now I am stretched out on a bed in a hotel room that I am sharing with Mike, who is already fast asleep. We are in some tiny town. I think it's called John Junction. Somebody should have named it Generic, because of all that businesses that line the town's main street- which, by the way, is named Main Street- the hotel is named The Hotel, the cafe is named The Cafe, the barbershop is named The Barber Shop, etc. Really imaginative thinking, right?

Anyway, dad talked to the guy at The Auto Repair Shop, and it seems it will take six days to get the parts needed to fix the car, and then another two days to actually fix the car. So I'm pretty much stuck here, in this hotel, whose rooms haven't been redone since the 1960s. I can imagine the place filled with hippies crashing all over the places, jammed into the beds, sprawled out on the floor, sleeping in the bathtub whose faucet will not stop drip-drip-dripping. The place does have cable, remarkably, but only eight channels, the channels you usually flip past while looking for something interesting, like the Sci-fi channel or HBO. Well, at least, if I'm at all interested, I can always turn on the television to see what the weather is like in Los Angeles or Guam or wherever.

I am going to sign off for now. I am feeling pretty tired, since we had to walk about six miles to get to this godforsaken place. Tomorrow morning I will walk over to The Bank, and drop this letter in The Mail

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