There's been this smear of dog poop hanging outside George's building steps for a few days now. I don't know whose job it is to clean it up but it's definitely my job to call it out and make sure visitors avoid it. Should anyone step in it, they'll have to throw their shoes away -- which I would unhesitatingly do, no matter the shoe -- and that would just be terrible. So I keep my eyes on the poop and warn others. If I were a nobler citizen, I would put on some gloves, scrape that stuff off, and really change the world. But these gloves were made for smoking, not scooping.
Earlier today, George's communal garage door was jammed, leaving it unable to open more then a quarter of the way up. One guy couldn't back his car out because it was positioned too close to the door. As I exited through the other entrance, I was thinking about what a horrible week this entryway was having. The 3000 block of Fillmore needed some happy thoughts.
Eight hours later, I returned after retrieving George's car from the impound lot and pulled into the still busted, but now open, garage, startling a couple furiously making out, bodies tucked inside to avoid the pouring rain. The girl was wearing a short pleated skirt and the guy wore a power suit and a huge chin. They scurried away to continue making out elsewhere. Ah, Wednesday night love. It's so romantical.
A few hours earlier, at approximately four fifteen (according to the police dispatcher), George's car was being towed away from right outside Victor's apartment. I was inside, on the phone with a tough sounding employee of South Bay Express, settling the bill for totally not my fault toll violations. I'd been fighting them for months but I finally waved the white flag of surrender after factoring in that I'd have to fly back home to contest the charges. I'm chalking the whole thing up to a friendship tax, because driving up and down that road to hang out was well worth the price. I think.
The other $250 spent for the tow and retrieve fee? Well, that's the price of having spent a great afternoon editing the Tahoe snowboarding video with Victor, getting some free laundry done, and a nice plate of ribs. By the time I was wandering up and down the block trying to figure out where the car had gone, I was too high from the video editing to be brought down by anything short of being run over.
After retrieving the car and arriving safely home a bit wiser and a lot poorer, I walked out to the corner donut store. One maple donut, a small coffee, and an apple later, I felt even better. So good that I gave five dollars to the bum on the corner -- something I'm normally morally opposed to doing -- just to keep my karma high.
I guess I had a bad day but it sure doesn't feel like it. And now Brown Sugar is on TV so no complaints here.
"The anticipation arose as time froze
I stared off the stage with my eyes closed and dove
into the deep cosmos
The impact pushed back, the first five rows
But before the raw live shows
I remember I'se a little snot-nosed
Rockin Gazelle, goggles and Izod clothes
Learnin the ropes of ghetto survival
Peepin out the situation I had to slide through
Had to watch my back my front plus my sides too
When it came to gettin mine I ain't tryin, to argue
Sometimes I wouldn'ta made it if it wasn't for you
Hip-Hop, you the love of my life and that's true"
-Roots, Act Too (The Love of My Life)-
