We've been back in CA for a little less than a week now. I was greeted by a note on my car, which, from our bathroom window, looked like it could've been a parking ticket, that said, "I LIKE TO BUY YOUR CAR. MIKE (818) ***-****." It was right after reading this note that noticed a patch of paint on my front bumper pealing up and down with the white underneath exposed, and that Mike apparently wants to buy a crappy-looking car.

My job is ridiculous. Like a circus sideshow. Or Pat Robertson. We're down to a skeleton crew and we're all starting to go crazy. Sort of like having cabin fever, only the cabin is a store being run by wishy-washy, selfish weirdos.

Ever since coming back though, I've had this excited feeling in my chest. The weather is warm and clear, just like it was ever June visit I used to make to my Grandparents' house. It makes me want to go to the Queen Mary or the zoo or the beach. Something touristy. It's a strange feeling, like something good is coming, in the midst of depression and funk.

Labels: los angeles is weird., travel/tourism., work.

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