Yo yo yo, Plattsburgh survivors! Guess who’s back, like a bad penny refusing to stay hidden in your couch cushions? That’s right, yours truly, fresh off an adventure (or was it an ordeal?) in the great northern tundra. So strap in, folks, ’cause this update promises more twists and turns than a pretzel factory.
First things first: Plattsburgh. Did it break me? Did it reform me? Did it, dare I say, confuse me more than a politician’s campaign promises? Let’s just say I may have returned with a few extra stories (and possibly a questionable tan line). Details to come, stay tuned!
Speaking of stories, buckle up for the holy trinity of chaos: new tires, a Sam’s Club snafu of epic proportions, and a mind-bending experience so intense it rivals the season finale of Lost. (Remember that show? Wild times.) Unpacking might take longer than deciphering hieroglyphics, but fear not, pictures are coming soon, proof that I actually ventured beyond my front door.
Now, excuse me while I go wrestle with these boxes and contemplate the existential questions raised by Sam’s Club’s return policy. Until next time, remember: sometimes, the best souvenirs are the stories you (almost) can’t believe yourself.
P.S. Did anyone else catch the meteor shower last night? Or was that just my sanity shooting stars across the sky? Asking for a friend… (who may or may not be me, but hey, who’s judging?)
Boneshakerbike 
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