Kurt Vonnegut, "A Man Without a Country"
Don't expect this to be one of those long, rambling entries. One, I'm typing on a laptop, and I don't like laptops. Two, I'm typing on a iMac laptop and I really don't like iMac's, much less iMac's that happen to be laptops. Then there's the fact that I'm lying on a bed while trying to type on an iMac laptop and it feels like my elbows are going to reverse themselves, not to mention that my collarbones feel like they're going to burst through my shoulders. Considering that my left collarbone is already trying to do that, well, let's just say it's not comfortable.
The short news of it all is that I start my job as an editor at the paper on December first, which probably means that I'll never have any free time ever again. Knowing that, I figured I should make a trip down to see my Kellybaby. And doing so should be easy enough to achieve, since that last trip that I made down here involved being detained at the airport for 16 hours which ultimately involved me getting a free roundtrip ticket.
The bar was slow enough for them to let me go so I decided to spend out the last of the month with Kelly and California. All the plans were pretty much solidified at the last minute and on Friday afternoon, I went to retrieve my free ticket so that I could redeem the value and make the reservations.
And it wasn't there. It wasn't anywhere, in fact.
After getting rid of most of my excess junk when I first moved off the mainland, there isn't a whole lot of stuff left to sift through but sift through lots of stuff I did. And looking at what I found, it was obvious that it wasn't accidentally thrown away � I still had fliers for crappy bars that I reviewed for the paper.
There are only a few answers that are possible at this point.
- The ticket was laced with some sort of Mission Impossible powder, and it self-destructed before I could redeem it.
- The same rats that found my leather jacket so tasty also like the taste of inky airline tickets.
- God hates me, and I'm a terrible person.
- I, after unpacking and seeing the ticket, decided to put it in a safe and most likely sentimental place, and now I can't remember where that is.
No, I'm not interested in hearing your guesses.
In any case, I couldn't find the ticket. At the same time, there was no way I wasn't going to come see Kellybaby before my life wastes away in drudgeryland. (As opposed to Diaryland, ho ho.) After another day of searching to no avail, I bit the bullet, went online and bought a ticket anyway.
So yeah, I'm in California until the 29th. Hit me up if you want to have a beer.
But you�re buying.
