Postscript

Forgot to mention it, but this hotel has a hot tub. Remember the rule about not passing up hot springs? Hot tubs qualify. Bad sign: kid shoes & shorts, but no kids present. I turn on the bubbles & crawl in anyway. Within 5 minutes, the kids show up - 3 boys, about 8ish; turns out one has a birthday today. Their aunt comes in with her 6-month old and chats me up. The boys' uncle owns the motel. Ah. "You look relaxed," she says. "I am relaxed," I say.
It's true, too. It's been creeping in along the way. Enough time off to unwind and enjoy it for a while.

The boys are rambunctious and when the bubbles turn off (15 minutes) I clear out. I'm still happy about the woman's comment. I get to my room and think, whew, of all nights, tonight deserves a drink. The only alcohol I've consumed on this trip was a bottle of wine split with my uncle. Mmm, I have alcohol in the car...oooh, mead. No bottle opener. Hmm. Bet the front desk has one; they've got a liquor store in the hotel lobby. They do. I'm not drinking the whole bottle by any stretch, but fortunately mead keeps if you cork it.

Ah. I may be at a truck-stop motel off I-90 in Mitchell, SD, but there's a full moon rising and I'm feeling good. I don't even mind it when I find the weird cat pin in a pocket of my bag.