The plane touched down in Oklahoma City at 1 in the morning. I picked up my rental car, and began to drive south. One of those stations that called itself "alternative" but I'd call "alt/metal" pounded from the stereo speakers. After the obligatory turns in the wrong directions on the wrong freeway, I was solidly on the I 35 heading home. I turned off at the Turner Falls exit (by passing the dead raccoon), figuring this tourist area (a waterfall, a botanic garden, Arbuckle Mountains) would have nice lodging, but headed back on the road when everything was cabin rentals as to which I hated to wake up the owners. A white large bird I believe to have been an owl flew overhead. I by-passed Ardmore when I realized I was so close to home I could almost finish the drive, but by Gainesville, Texas, I realized that the last eighty minutes or so would have to be undertaken after some sleep. I stopped at Best Western, slept four or five hours. When I awoke, Animal Planet was playing the Westminster Dog Show. A terrier won the Best in Show. Then I grabbed muffins and grape juice at the "continental breakfast", and drove the short way back home.
Today I think of the word "obvious" as my single most applicable adjective, both in relation to my self and my writing.