Day 249, More

Last night's effort was a little thin.  I do try to keep you amused.  But I never do my best typing in motels, least of all ones like that.  The Cornholio East, or something like that, in Homestead, Florida.

Worst place I've been on this continent.  I've seen worse in India.  Not very much worse, you understand.  It wasn't cheap, either.  Nice folks in Homestead, be assured, but you might want to sleep somewhere else.

The first place I went had been condemned.  "Unhygienic Conditions," it said.  God knows where they draw that line.  I did not sleep in the bed.  But on it.  On top of my tent.  To protect me from the elements.

I got everything done I needed to.  I got my whiskers trimmed.  I should I guess have scraped them off, but you grow attached to the things.  I patched up my pack to last one more week.  I rinsed off as well as I could.

I did not patch my sleeping pad.  I would have had to use the tub.  And did not what whatever grew there to spread as far as my bed linens.  I did stand in it.  I was not pleased, but I think I will survive.  My feet have suffered many indignities in the course of this adventure.

Find me now headed south.  Next time I check in, it will be from across the sea.  Call the papers.  Tell your friends.  You've got a right to be proud.  Your friend James has Walked Across America.

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