Maybe tomorrow I will clean the dishes that are starting to support life

I was so productive today it was stupid. I managed to not only switch shifts to accommodate the much anticipated band I wanted to see tonight, I got out early so I could run some errands.

I work a fixed schedule of 2:30 pm to 10:30 p.m. every Monday through Thursday. This presents an awkward schedule for someone that work best at dusk. My best hours are spent pretending be productive.

Getting out at rush hour presented some strategic difficulties, but I think I managed to take the most inconvenient routes due to traffic congestion and pit-stop locations. Still learning the ropes of the road around Los Angeles.

To heighten the suffocation of the all consuming traffic, I drove for blocks stuck behind a truck with a rusty metal pole precariously thrown into the bed. It looked ready for launch and impalement upon the nearest sudden light stop.

I think I’ve seen too many of those “I narrowly cheated death and now it lurks behind every corner in the aim to kill me suddenly and seductively” movies. Those movies were a hit with the kids for a while.

Taking another crowded side street in the vain attempt to find my bank and avoid death, I realized I was without gas. I tend to wait until the last minute and hope I don’t run out of gas in the process.

So far it’s been an efficient system.

My vehicle has yet to see a carwash under my ownership. The layers of dirt and bird poo can attest to that. Living in Southern California does not offer much cleansing rain either.

Moving here from a swamp land it never occurred to me to wash my car before. In fact, it was a known fact that if you wash your car then it automatically rains. Thus rendering your wash useless, leaving you with dirt on your car and mud in your face.

Standing there bored waiting for my tank to fill with precious fossil fuels inspired me to squeegee off my windows and even some unsightly dried on shit stains off the hood.
Close enough to a bunch of guys running around cleaning off your car.

Sister called upon me to supply the household, meaning her, with Q-tips or more generically called cotton swabs. This calls for the 99 cents store. Not only is it one whole cent cheaper than the dollar store, well actually that’s the only difference.

I must proclaim how much I enjoy finding random junk and sometimes necessary items to buy at the 99 cents store.

I found hair ties, bobby pins, paper towel, chewing gum, wire clothes hangers, because they were the best deal compared to the plastic ones, and managed to resist a bag of chips that was much too small for 99 cents, despite my desire for it.

I got to laugh all the way down the isle saying, “NO MORE WIRE HANGERS!!!” in my best Joan Crawford impression. Other patrons avoided eye contact. My sister used to claim it was one of her favorite movies growing up.

This always slightly disturbed me.

As it turns out, today was Teach Your Children How to Silently Walk Behind Moving Cars Day. That sure raised anxiety back to nerve shattering levels.

I even managed to grab my clothes from the fluff and fold ensuring clean undergarments for tomorrow. Having someone else clean your clothes is not a cop-out. When you don’t have time to sit at the laundromat yourself, I need someone to make sure creepy men with their hands down their pants stay away from my panties. Plus, they will match your socks and fold your panties into little swans.

Turns out, I could have bought a kidney on the black market for about the same price. It’s based on weight and apparently my clothes are heavy enough to sink a ship. Maybe not an oil tanker, but a least a fine yacht.

Alas, even if I would have come across my correct bank branch it was well past five when I retrieved my underthings. All those bank slackers had closed shop.

This being said, I worked at a credit union and remember almost having a nervous break-down and heart palpitations by the time 5 o’clock rolled around. I really do pity the fools.

To top it all off, I even managed to get some writing done. Not on the news assignment that got returned to me for “necessary corrections” due to my broken spirit, but writing none-the-less.

Of course this is all after eight hours of work, but who’s really counting.