Oh dear, I've been terrible, haven't I? Haven't posted for at least a week, and there's no real excuse for it except that I've been so busy at work, and when I haven't been busy at work, I've been busy getting to work—and from work, come to think of it—because I have a two-hour commute these days (hour and a half if I'm lucky), and that seems to truncate the days an awful lot. Other things I've neglected recently include my email, my eyebrows, my roots, the towering pile of overdue library books on my bedside table, and the state of my house in general. Basically, don't come over. Or look at me anywhere above the nose.
So a good thing has happened since we last spoke—well, since I last spoke at you—and a bad one has happened too. The good one is that Sean started a new job, and the bad one is that our car got broken into. The two weren't related, I DON'T THINK—uh-oh, now I'm imagining a spurned candidate looking Sean up on Linked In and following him home under cover of night, but then again I have been reading a lot of detective fiction lately—but they both happened in the last ten days and karma is sort of a bitch like that so I thought I'd mention them together anyway. Peaks and valleys!
Sean's new job is very exciting—although it means we don't commute together anymore, leaving me as the sole survivor of the SOUL-SUCKING SOJOURN DOWN 101, hang on a minute while I write that down, oh look I just did—but the car break-in was not so exciting. In fact, it was terrible. For reasons I cannot even bear to go into—pure stupidity, basically, and also tiredness and laziness—Sean had left his wallet in the car that night, and that, of course, was taken. I know, I know—how ridiculous to leave your wallet in the car! What do you expect? You get what you get when you do what you do, etcetera etcetera, and I'd almost believe the crushing sense of self-loathing and humiliation was the worst part of it all for Sean, except he had to go straight to the DMV the next morning to get a new license, so....yeah. I think it was probably that.
As well as the wallet, the thief also took our FastTrak (the automatic thing that lets you go through tolls without stopping), the fleece I bought Sean for Christmas, a hoodie he'd bought on the last day at his old job, and a leather jacket I got a few years ago and which I am sure the thief was very disappointed with once he got it into some better lighting because it is a) fake leather and b) from TJ Maxx. Curiously, this thief didn't take our GPS, nor another jacket of Sean's that was right on the backseat with the others. Apart from the question, of course, of why we had so many damn jackets in the car in the first place, this is the most mysterious part of all. But maybe khaki green wasn't his color, who can say.
In happier news, my dad came up to San Francisco to visit for the weekend—my mum is in England for two months, and I think he got a little lonely only having conversations with the UPS man—and we went to the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass festival in Golden Gate Park. The Hardly Strictly Bluegrass festival is free, which means there are seven trazillion people there, and it is also the scene of the most rampant and casual drugtaking I have ever seen in my life. My dad went the first day by himself—it was a Friday, so we were at work—and when he walked in that evening he looked at us and said "I AM AS HIGH AS A KITE." He was only kidding, of course (wait....I think?) but the air was so thick with marijuana smoke, he reported, that he felt like his left foot would start talking to him at any moment, and this is a guy who has lived through the sixties, remember, so he knows what's what.
Anyway, here are some gratuitous pictures of the festival so you can imagine for yourselves what it's like to press up against 10,000 sweaty bodies on an unseasonably warm afternoon while trying to find a normal brownie to buy, god dammit, I just want a normal brownie, just a normal one.
So that's me all caught up then, what have you been up to?
Oh wait, no! I also made an apple pie.
Okay, now we're caught up.