12:33am: thought ‘right on red, motherfucker’ and ‘every day is a school day’ while making a right turn on a red light near a sign that said something about school days.

12:39am: the ‘plausible deniability’ movie is ‘independence day.’ the president is asking about why no one told him about Area 51.

12:45am: passed ‘not-obviously cop car’ cop car who had pulled a person over. Thought ‘do cops ever do bad stuff…should I be a cop now…would it be funny if I was a cop…[picture of ICP in cop uniforms]…it would suck to get pulled over and the cop happened to be a k9 cop…they should just train people to smell drugs instead, create more jobs…’

12:50am: for a long time I didn’t know why people would say ‘it’s not a tumor’ in Arnold Schwarzenegger voice and I’d say it too.

12:51am: sometimes I’m like ‘thought ‘[thing]’ and sometimes I just say the thought.

1:24am: reading this from the beginning, trying to see if I like it as a thing. Lit second cigarette of drive. Pictured map of rt. 95 between Baltimore and Philadelphia with little red circles indicating all the places the matches I’ve thrown out the window have landed. There would be tracking devices in the matches and it’d be a 300-year map showing where the matches went after I threw them and how they’ve disintegrated.

2:32am: passed familiar street sign that says ‘marlborough,’ where last year (exactly one year ago, I think, or one year tomorrow) Zachary and I made a wrong turn. I was driving a u-haul containing the things now arranged in storage closet. Have a feeling I’m going be feeling very stereotypical ‘endings’ things, like as my dominant emotion for next two days. Read beginning half of this on the drive here. Seems impossible to imagine the time before I started writing. Like, meeting Colin at Dunkin donuts in the beginning of march. Jesus. The reading. Jesus. All of the things. Seems crazy that people are allowed to live this long. It would be funny if they do a new kind of autopsy of me in 300 years and figure out I was supposed to have ended up in the body of a cricket instead of a ‘Megan Boyle.’

2:44am: got lost a little. Ate 1mg Xanax and used a ‘say yes to cucumbers’-brand face towel Tao and I used in Spain, that I bought again recently and every time I use makes me feel like Spain.

2:45–3:15AM: opened apartment door. the lights were off but i could sense that things weren’t in their normal places. the air felt different, a little confused. i dropped my keys and made a noise. zachary said ‘hey peg’ from the living room. i said ‘hello’ and something else. i turned on the hall lights and walked to the kitchen. in the room before the kitchen, a line of stacked boxes and garbage bags looked like a firing squad to the formerly room-dominating picnic table, which had been made into more portable pieces. opened the fridge and saw condiments and sauerkraut and two cans of schaeffer’s or schlitz, i forget. the cans were side-by-side and leaning in ways that wouldn’t be supported without the help of plastic six-pack rings. didn’t know what i expected looking in the fridge would do.