Lost And Delerious, Going Clockwise 57 miles

I had to beat the rain predicted to arrive by 3pm. So I figured only 3 hours this time out. To mix it up a bit on the same old roads here in Southern Vacationland, I opted to go the same route I posted below, only backwards. That seemed fine. Until I entered the obscure suburban maze off 238 that is The Old Mill suburban community. Suburbs are like vortexes, mind fucks of modern living. I was looping around the same "Lanes" and "Drives" over and over until I began to curse the inhabitants. Who would choose to live like this? In a manicured system of oversized hampster habitrails that go nowhere? And what sick mind would continue to design them?
Once I made it out, I was again in familiar territory, Agamenticus Road. Easy, right? Just go right, take another right at Emery Bridge Rd. and you're homeward bound. Unless you happen to take a left at the Meeting House church instead of continuing straight. If you take a left, you end up on a 45 minute loop that finds us back at the entrance to, you guessed it, the same suburban hell. Now I'm an hour off schedule. On that dreadful loop I was challenged by a bull dog who had not been tethered to the trailer he guarded. The fella got across the yellow doubles toward me as I picked up the pace. I yelled Fuck You, which in these moments, sounds more like "Fugeuh". But he slowed down as he found out I barked louder. He also was a pretty slow fucker and couldn't top 28 miles an hour.
The rain never really materialized. But I was out of water and food about an hour and a half from home. The last 45 minutes were a bit delirious.
Another observation about clockwise, was the frost heaves. They were way worse on the side of the roads going clockwise! I have no idea why. Every time I entered the astroid field of frost heaves, I'd take a look across the double yellow stripes at pristine pavement. So I guess it's counter clockwise from here on out. In some places, the pavement had cracked and split into chunks of squares, loose but still held in place. Riding through these sections creates a popping, crackling sound as each chunk shifts beneath the weight of the bicycle's wheels. Sort of strange, sort of eerie. 57 miles, a few less than Monday given that I didnt' end up on Tatnic Rd. this time around. That's ok too.