A Game Of Crohn's

I should have known when I woke up at 2am and couldn’t get back to sleep that it wasn’t going to be a fun day. I’ve never driven myself to Rochester, although I’ve been there several times. I never would have made it there without GPS, because there is no real straight-shot from my house. Having said that, GPS was an absolute nightmare, because it takes me on the most twisty backwoods-hillbilly route that it can possibly come up with, in the interest of saving two minutes. And it’s foggy. And it’s very hilly (everyone from this area is saying DUHHHHH right now). And the deer are absolutely ridiculous in the throes of the yearly rut. They’re running about, willy-nilly, having a fabulous time (jerks), while I attempt to keep up with my not-running-well -in the-boonies GPS, which is giving me a 30 second heads-up on any and all turns I’m making. I’m going 45mph, pissing off the locals, down the hellishly curving roads of rural Wisconsin and Minnesota, whilst also dodging