“Lessa! Take that poor raisin out of the sun, please! We don’t want it to dry up entirely!” He shouted. Whatever. I’ve just learned to go with the flow. He gets passionate about strange things soemtimes, and tends to yell. I think I’m partly deaf now, because of it. It is a truth universally acknowledged that he’s a crazy man. Well, perhaps not universally, but by anyone who’s ever known him.

I went to take the raisin out of the sun. Boy is it hot! How did I manage to wake cold this morning? I put the thought aside as I placed the raisin on the car dash board. I hate road trips. I think they’d be alright if Dad didn’t make me get out and do some random thing every five minutes. It’s almost as bad as whitewashing that stupid fence. My friends all leave town the second week of July to avoid any risk of being suckered into helping me. They’re just too smart.

I try to fall asleep, but as soon as I start nodding off, he wakes me up. “1,345!” he exclaims.
1,345 miles to go before I sleep.