What the F, indeed.

What the F, indeed.

Good morning, it’s Friday. It’s another foggy day, the humidity is high, and no amount of caffeine will calm my nerves today.

Shawshank‘s leaving sometime this morning. We talked twice last night. I passed along his parents’ address and his mother’s cell number. “What’s the weather supposed to be like?” he asked me. “I hope they let me change into a shirt. I was taken in wearing that sweater and a beater underneath, neither would be good to walk around in.”

He had no idea when it would actually be, but guessed he might be leaving about now. He didn’t have any information about which border crossing they’d be taking him through. Last night, his plan was to find someplace where he could buy food and a phone, then make his way to a bus station. I tried to figure out which crossing they might use, based on the route from the Homeland Security building I went to yesterday. None of the crossings in Vermont seem to be very large. That makes it difficult to figure out what his options will be when they drop him off.

“If you need to, call me and I’ll send you an Uber,” I told him.

I let my mother know what was happening.

Chicky-mom is not impressed. “This is a complete cluster,” she said.

Which was followed closely by “do you need me to come up and help now?”

Today is my food treat night. It’s something to look forward to.

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