Driving in a convertible Mustang under an L.A. Sun
For the last two days I have been in bed with the flu. Missed two days of work so far, not sure about tomorrow, the day I’m supposed to pass my behind the wheel driving test since I passed my written one on Friday with only one wrong answer. I don’t think I could do the test, which means I don’t think I can go to work.
How is this going to sit with my bosses? God knows. I’ve seen people in there dragging themselves to work even when they were sick, one even puked on his desk and yet continued to work. It would probably be the first time in their 19 years history that an employee is sick three days in a row.
However, I have no energy, I just fall in my bed and sleep all day. And at the moment they are doing asphalt outside and they are making so much noise! And now I have started to cough. I feel bad about all this and I’m sure there will be great consequences with my boss, who could not even let me go to a driving test too far away if it meant two more hours away from work.
I did not buy the Mustang, I went to a retailer, the guy was not very nice, and the car appeared to be older than what they stated. I was so disgusted by all this that I will not buy a Mustang anymore. It is a Ford after all, it would probably cost me a fortune in repairs. And this one sounded like it needed a lot of repairs, even with only 60,000 miles on the counter. So now I’ll be looking for a convertible that I can buy cash, and I will wait until I get paid at the end of the month.
Stephen just called from London. As usual our phone call was a nightmare. He just got back from Scotland driving a car for his work, he was arrested again by the police for doing 92 miles an hour and zigzagging on the motorway, the very same reason that almost lost him his driving license three months ago, and this time he got away with it.
The cats in the background were causing havoc, he was speaking very fast about unimportant things, and suddenly, right after he finished speaking, it was time to finish the phone call because he was afraid of the phone bill.
I wonder if he realizes that this is building a canyon between us, that I cannot even find support and reassurance talking with him. The ocean separating us is now both physical and psychological. It does not make me feel like I miss him or London anymore.
And I admit it could all be part of the design, my destiny, to help me accept my life here. If everything back home sounded like a brilliant Christmas celebration around a tree, I would feel bad now for being here.
Neither of us knows yet if he will come or if I will go back for Christmas. Christmas falling on a Saturday, none of us has much holiday this year. He has a lot compared with me, but does not have the money. I could buy his ticket, and this would be taken from the money for the car… we’ll see.
How is this going to sit with my bosses? God knows. I’ve seen people in there dragging themselves to work even when they were sick, one even puked on his desk and yet continued to work. It would probably be the first time in their 19 years history that an employee is sick three days in a row.
However, I have no energy, I just fall in my bed and sleep all day. And at the moment they are doing asphalt outside and they are making so much noise! And now I have started to cough. I feel bad about all this and I’m sure there will be great consequences with my boss, who could not even let me go to a driving test too far away if it meant two more hours away from work.
I did not buy the Mustang, I went to a retailer, the guy was not very nice, and the car appeared to be older than what they stated. I was so disgusted by all this that I will not buy a Mustang anymore. It is a Ford after all, it would probably cost me a fortune in repairs. And this one sounded like it needed a lot of repairs, even with only 60,000 miles on the counter. So now I’ll be looking for a convertible that I can buy cash, and I will wait until I get paid at the end of the month.
Stephen just called from London. As usual our phone call was a nightmare. He just got back from Scotland driving a car for his work, he was arrested again by the police for doing 92 miles an hour and zigzagging on the motorway, the very same reason that almost lost him his driving license three months ago, and this time he got away with it.
The cats in the background were causing havoc, he was speaking very fast about unimportant things, and suddenly, right after he finished speaking, it was time to finish the phone call because he was afraid of the phone bill.
I wonder if he realizes that this is building a canyon between us, that I cannot even find support and reassurance talking with him. The ocean separating us is now both physical and psychological. It does not make me feel like I miss him or London anymore.
And I admit it could all be part of the design, my destiny, to help me accept my life here. If everything back home sounded like a brilliant Christmas celebration around a tree, I would feel bad now for being here.
Neither of us knows yet if he will come or if I will go back for Christmas. Christmas falling on a Saturday, none of us has much holiday this year. He has a lot compared with me, but does not have the money. I could buy his ticket, and this would be taken from the money for the car… we’ll see.
posted by Mycroft Holmes @ 8:00 AM
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