Happy November 1st! I hope you remembered to “fall back” before crashing on Halloween. I hope you’re using the extra hour to sleep off your candy coma. I hope you
don’t wake up to find the last Reece’s Peanut Butter Cup in your hair, ‘cause let’s face it: that would be almost as good as finding $20 in a pair of old jeans.
I meant to write this last Sunday, but I was doing my own crashing in a hotel room in San Antonio. Since then, it occurred to me that I published my first announcement about The Scribbler at the new time—9:00 a.m.—instead of at noon like you’re used to. There’s also a possibility that traffic isn’t being properly redirected from TheScribb1er.wordpress.com to TheScribblerMag.com. I’ll be posting several of these asides to make sure that we’re still on the same webpage, but please bear in mind that unprotected Wi-Fi networks are currently limiting me to the WordPress mobile app.
I’m about to leave the cheapest hotel I could find off the I-10 in Jacksonville, Florida (of all places) to begin my northward journey on the I-95. When I left California eleven days ago, I wasn’t sure how far my travels (and Adrienne) would take me, but I’m now determined to make it all the way to Canada (wink).
Today, I’ll be stopping in Savannah, Georgia on my way to Charleston, South Carolina, where I’ve booked a private bed/en suite bath at my first hostel. The staff is working remotely because of COVID-19 and my card was charged from somewhere in Ireland, so I’m a bit nervous. Let’s hope it’s as charming as it looked online!