From the Vault: Guess the Age of My Travel Mate

I wrote this post a long time ago, when Kyle and I were driving across the country after the AT.  I am currently going through all my posts and cleaning them up, throwing out unpublished ones that suck, fixing tags, wasting time… and I found this one.  Had to post it because it made me smile.

He likes to pick his boogers and show them to me before flicking them out the window. He didn’t tell me that when he bought a new radio it came with a remote control.  This allowed him to keep it hidden and secretly turn up the sound without me knowing, causing me to have a few bewildered moments. He (fake) cries, loudly and emphatically whenever he doesn’t get his way. He thinks it’s funny to whack me with the neck pillow whenever he gets bored. He farts.  And burps.  A lot.  Sometimes in ABC format. He has itching fits and goes into spasms (maybe he is a dog…) He gets hangry (hungry grumpy) and is incapable of getting himself a snack. He has made a deal with me by which he gets to eat a whole bag of skittles on November first and they are currently in the glove box waiting to be devoured. If you guessed that my travel mate was two your would be wrong.  He is thirty.  And although I sometimes think his ultimate goal is to prepare me or scare me off of having children I wouldn’t consider driving across the country without him.

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As Edward Abbey said, "An indoor life is the next best thing to a premature burial."