Got to work today at 7 p, usual time, all the while thinking to myself, wish they'd called me off. Yeah, money is my beloved friend, sure, but laziness is my... I can't figure out a way to end that sentence that doesn't sound like a 70s love song. Anyway, got there, and the charge rn said, "Do you want to go home?" and I said, "Ha!" and so here I am. Turns out they'd called off another nurse, but didn't do it until like 10 minutes after her husband dropped her off, so YAY, YAY FOR ME. I left them the fruit salad I'd lugged in and came on back.
May have to work at 11 p, but that's okay. Gives me a chance to write some delicately worded emails to landlords in SF, certain ones, and to eat some greenbeans sauteed in ginger. Mmmm, greenbeans. How I love you, you're my only... dammit.
Didn't end up going to the shamanism workshop, ended up getting profoundly lost and wandering the streets of the Mission District for like two hours. My, parts of the Mission are... colorful, aren't they? I bet cats are the least of their worries. I bet cats would be a refreshing break for them. I bet cats are -- okay, OKAY. I'm good. Anyway, found a flea market tucked in between a couple papered-over storefronts, and had me some fun not-haggling with the vendors -- because how do you haggle a dollar? I don't. Especially not in Spanish. Then I walked some more and saw many gorgeous people wearing rainbows all over their bodies, and then I came on home. It was really nice. I scored a super bracelet with stickers of saints on it, and a necklace made out of raggedy blue rocks, and what the hell, I already know how to day-dream.
Oh, hey -- sorry, neighbors! It's called cooking. Kind of. Just took me a minute to pull the chair over to reach the smoke detector, is all.
Remix? Y'all? I'm doing great. Turns out I am writing for the correct recip after all. Not that I had any doubts: ha ha HA. Just, I'm just saying.