The P.A. Experience

You know those assholes in their expensive cars zooming down the freeway, weaving in and out of lanes without signaling and scaring you within an inch of your life? I was in the death seat of one this morning as my employer rushed to make his early morning international flight.

I suggested we take advantage of the commuter lane. "I think that's illegal at this point," he said, referring to the fact that we would have to cross the double solid line. I was too busy muttering every prayer I could remember to point out that running several red lights and driving on the wrong side of the road weren't behaviors condoned by California Highway Patrol.

While he's away I'm getting the car serviced, ordering dance tickets, and delivering freshly picked tomatoes to Suzie at the bank (as you do). It sounds so glamorous in print - trust me, the reality isn't quite the same. Maybe it's the dirty laundry in the back seat of the car or the rotting bananas and unidentifiable smushed "health food" bars - I think it's a combination.

I barely slept last night and my shoulders are wrecked from the week on the futon so I think a massage is in order (courtesy of Mia's bday gift - thanks babe!!).