notmypresident: (Call me!)
I lied. This will be my very last entry from San Francisco, but only because I've simply run out of time. If I don't pack up the iMac tonight, it will have to be left behind — and that's not going to happen.

My dad arrived today from Portland via Amtrak. The train was only an hour late, which is pretty good when you consider typical Amtrak delays. Dad says the ride was pleasant enough but that the temperature was kept at a level best suited for a morgue than a passenger train (he wound up wearing his coat for the duration). I ordered an Uber car to pick him up at the train station, but the driver didn't speak a word of English (I know, I tried contacting him) and picked up the wrong passenger. When I called, all the driver could do was hand the phone to the passenger he'd mistakenly taken on so that I could find out what was up. The passenger was super nice and apparently went the extra mile to locate my father and explain things after they'd returned to the station. What a way for my dad's visit to start.

It hasn't been entirely weird being with dad. I can tell he's trying his best to be accommodating. And I'm trying my best not to become annoyed by some of his typical dad stuff. He apparently doesn't agree with the timeline that I've set up, but he's going to see how things go (accompanied by a heavy sigh of frustration). U-Haul was able to get the bigger truck for us, and we went over this afternoon to sign the paperwork so that it was locked down for us. We actually should have just driven it back to park out front, but that wasn't in the cards. I'm trying to be careful not to overwork dad. He's got that stubborn streak where he'll say he's fine even when he isn't. He recently hurt his shoulder, so I opened up the box of bathroom supplies that I'd packed to give him some of those individual heating bands that I find to be so wonderful. I hope they can help him out tonight because we're going to hit the road tomorrow for the first half of the trek to Oregon (barring any unforeseen incidents, that is).

I know we'll muddle through, but it's still nerve wracking at this point. I keep getting mixed signals from dad about the two rooms he said he'd clear out from me, but I suppose I'll just have to adopt a wait-and-see attitude. I'll do whatever has to be done when I get to Beaverton.

Thanks for everything, San Francisco. You really are my home, and I'd stay if I could afford you.

Now for Another Hot Guy.