Monday evening. I am sitting on an antique bed at The Wayside Inn in Middletown, VA. I left this afternoon to drive down to Staunton, VA to pick up my eldest daughter from college. I am still about eighty miles away, but her classes don’t end until tomorrow at noon so I’ll drive leisurely down to the campus. Then we’ll bum around campus for a little bit as she does her final tasks and says goodbye to her classmates. I hope to get back on the road to Connecticut sometime in the afternoon

I’ve pushed the schedule up a little bit so that I can be home in time to get to Mayor DeStefano’s 50th Birthday party on Wednesday which I am eagerly looking forward to.

The Wayside Inn advertises itself as The Oldest Continuously Operating Inn in America. I was figuring that I would end up at some motel chain with an internet connection and a swimming pool. A swimming pool would be nice; a relaxing swim, or maybe even a hot tub or sauna would do wonders for me right about now.

However, the Wayside Inn isn’t your typical stop on the Interstate. It is a little more expensive that one of those quick crashpads, but is very nice, and it turns out to have WiFi.

The room I am in is towards that back, away from the sounds of the street. There isn’t much of a view out the window, except for the thin crescent of the new moon accompanied by some unidentified flower scenting the evening sky.

Inside the room is a beautiful old writing desk, not far from the TV on its stand. Above the writing desk is a portrait of Benjamin Franklin. A little further over there is a picture of the “Parade of The Grand Army of The Republic”, Washington D.C., September 20th, 1892. Other unidentified pictures adorn other walls.

On the way down, I listened to A Movable Feast by Ernest Hemingway. It whets my appetite to write better, but I am tired from the long drive and tomorrow will be a long day as well.