This is a very gray week in Los Angeles. My roommate is dying of the cold, I can tell. I come home to find her bundled up in blankets and socks. Me...I just walk around icey cold hands 'cause I'm tough like that. And by tough I mean trembling.
A few updates: Got my things back last night from the ex. It was tough but it went okay, as well as it can go. Now I don't have to think about it anymore, that I have reclaimed my jammies , perfume, and crock pot. That's right: no more slow cookin'! I'll need that crock pot for our roast of the Virgin Bird, anyway.
Also - there was a pepper spray incident at work last night. This will give you all an idea of the healthy work environment here. I was not around for said spraying, but according to my co-worker, she accidentally sprayed a bit of it - one itsey bitsy spray - toward a co-worker last night. "Goofing around," "assault" -- whatever you want to call it. Anyway - before she knew it, everyone in our huge area was coughing and getting sick. She was mortified. One of the VPs came out and told everyone to go home - evacuate! So - between the occassional pepper spray and sewage leaking down cube walls, I'd say I'm just a few steps shy of the corner office! This is all very ironic given the fact that my writing class read an essay last night by Hunter Thompson about his experiences at the Kentucky Derby in the 70s, where he sprays the drunken crowd, the "beasts," with mace.
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