Met my baby in a used car lot

Hi. I just drove over 4000 miles. Well. Not me personally. At least, not the whole 4000. I'm tired. But I'll start at the beginning, and we'll see how long it takes to tell the whole story.
Last friday. The 15th. I had my last day af school, ever. It went fine, I finished a few things up in a near blind panic, went to the department end-of-semester party and talked to a few people. I talked to Dave, the guy who had been brought in to help out the master electricians this semester (previously, they were just kind of thrown in, which really sucks. I know, I was one of them) and he gave me some good feedback on my portfolio, and some advice about New York. I totally forget what it was now, but at the time it sounded useful. I had my past advanced scenic studio, where I got more portfolio advice, and then I bailed. I fully expected to rush home, pack the last odds and ends, load up the truck and fly out of there. Oh, my optimism. You know what they say about the best laid plans of mice and men. I left class and checked my phone, to find a message from Anne-Marie. Saying that Jill had cut into her thumb with a circular saw. Holy hell. So I waited for them to get back from the emergency room, where they had glued her thumb back together (true story, superglue was invented during WW2 for this very purpose. Also, the circular saw was invented by a Quaker woman. Who knew) and we decided to postpone leaving. We loaded up the truck with my stuff, and most of Anne-Maries, went out to dinner, and then crashed. It was a good idea to stay that night, we were all pretty exhausted even without the bloody excitement. So the next morning, after loading the last couple boxes, forgetting and going back for the camera, we left at about 9 in the morning. We were all packed tightly into the front of the truck, and we sang christmas carols and ate oranges. It was great fun. We dropped Anne-Marie off in Portland, and unloaded a few of her boxes. Jill and I were a little worried, because the truck was fuller than we had anticipated, and we still had to pick up all of my stuff in California. Anne-Marie had originally said that she would send 3-5 bowes with us, and of course, I had said oh, yeah, sure, of course. Yeah, 9 boxes later... Oh well. We continued on. In Roseburg we stopped for an hour to get gas and get an FM transmitter for my ipod. I shelled out big for it, and it was totally worth it. We could always find a clear station for it, even in the middle od a city. It was pretty fantastic. On this topic, Jill and I do not agree on music. We were both, I think, trying not to annoy each other, because we knew that there was no escape. But holy hell. What with my borderline punk rock, etc (Bjork, Ani, Clash, Belle and Sebastian on and on) and her goddamn country and oldies. Good thing the shuffle function got good at playing one of hers, one of mine. There is an overlap in our tastes, but there was a lot of silent suffering going on. Anyway, we kept driving. Jill drove the whole day. In Vacaville, CA we pulled off for gas, and had to go through this license/dui check that was the biggest bullshit ever. Basically, there were about 20 cops standing around with their cars and floodlights, and they ask "did you have anything to drink?" "no" "what's your birthdate?" Jill tells them, and we leave. What? Okay, if you are driving drunk, you will make sure to avoid the horde of cops, and if you have a fake license, you memorize all the information. Anyway. We got to Oakland at 11 30pm, which was great, given that my had had given us a 1am estimate when I called him from the border. I loved being home. There was a fire roaring, and the cats were flopped out, and it was home. Jill really liked it to. She said that it totally explained a lot about me, and that she really like my house. That it looked kind of like a movie, with books everywhere and some sticking out at angles, and piled on shelves, and pleasant clutter everywhere. I was really glad she liked it, I was worried that she wouldn't, and/or would be really uncomfortable. It was very heartening, particularly since the last thing I heard from someone who saw my house was Percy with his snotty 'I can't believe they were allowed to raise her in such squalor". What a judgemental asshole. Here's the thing about my parents house. It's small and cluttered and they keep everything. But there's a reason for everything, and there are about 3000 books and they're everywhere and it's facsinating. Maybe not to people who can't stand anything out of order, but my parents house gives a complete feeling of life and interest in everything. I don't know, I'm not saying this very well. Point is- we woke up kind of early, reloaded the truck, rearranging everything. We got in everything but two boxes of books, which is fine. Books are pretty cheap to ship. We also had to do an oil change on the truck, and eat breakfast. And drive through Oakland and Berkeley so I could show her where I lived last year, and where I worked. All in all, we officially left at about 12 40 in the afternoon. We were kind of giving up on a lot of our plans, thinking that we were non 12 hours behind schedule.

Okay, I'm really tired, so southern California and the Southwest will wait till later.
I'm in Manhattan, at my aunt's apartment. And I have work. Life is rolling along well.