Yesterday I drove to Quebec and back. I needed to wire my Canadian house deposit to the real estate lawyer in person. The bank refused to do it remotely. So I woke up at 4am, drove to Coaticook 4.5 hours away (the nearest branch from Boston), did my business then drove right back. It was a small town. Quebec provincial flags flying in the absence of Canadian flags. That gave me pause, the people there might be begrudgingly Canadian, and my French skill is poor. The town also smelled like manure, not disparaging, just an observation. They were good people at the bank. They helped me send my wire and I was grateful. On the way back the US border guard was an asshole. I told him I was buying a house in Canada and he gave me a sarcastic “Why?”. Fuck you is why. Then he checked my back seat to see if I was smuggling someone into the country.

Today I drove to Cleveland. Part one of the Chicago then T-Bay Xmas road trip. Fuck that was a lot of driving. My neck is a rock. Driving is like a video game. Except it feels boring and mundane despite the fact that you could die at any moment. I don’t like how I speed so much. I was cruising down 90 west at mostly 84 mph. The only lunatic on the road doing this. When I drive why can’t I chill the fuck out?

In the hotel now, on the 29th floor. Bladerunner 2049 is on the TV. It was the least shitty option on the menu. I forgot how mesmerizing the visuals were in this movie. It suffers from volume issues though. I hate how dynamic range is maximized in movies so that you have to turn the volume way up to hear the dialogue, then in an action scene it blows your eardrums out. I need a hot shower and sleep. Go to bed Complain-o.