Stormy Weather

It has been raining, which is not news anywhere but in California. How long has it been since it last rained? Well, Abbie didn’t recognize it, and I have had her 13 months, so it has been a while.

She started barking at 3 a.m. She’s not a night time barker (though in the daytime, she loves nothing more than to find something outside to yap at) so I got up and opened the front door.

It was a dark and stormy night.

I saw a massive sheet of plastic up in the air, blowing every which way. I stared at it, wondering where it came from and thinking it must be caught in the power lines.

Then I realized my neighbor was holding it while standing on his roof in the wind and rain at 3 am. I hadn’t realized he was there because my brain didn’t register that there was a human on the roof.

Not only was I staring at him, but he was staring at me, staring at him. I can pretty much predict his thought process, because I would have thought the same thing: “Why is that crazy bitch staring at me as I’m up here trying not to kill myself while I cover my leaky roof? What a [insert favorite swear word].”

Sorry, neighbor. I really didn’t mean to stare.

***

(It was not this place. But I may go here just to see what Baken is).

I almost broke the Old Grease Rule. I had the day off and decided to go out to breakfast, something I usually only do on vacation.

I went to a local cafe, walked in and smelled the old grease. But the guy had already greeted me and I couldn’t just chicken out. I sat at the counter and ordered coffee. The guy came back with the coffee and took my order.

The coffee was horrible. Some cheap supermarket brand, watery, weak, acid. Strike two.

I unwrapped my silverware to see a greasy fingerprint on the knife. Strike three.

I jammed my hand in my purse, grabbed my phone, regarded the screen.

Frantically, I said “Excuse me! Excuse me! Can I cancel my order? I’m sorry, I need to go! I’ll just pay for the coffee…”

I did not need to go. Well, not for any other reason than to avoid a horrible breakfast. But he didn’t need to know that, did he?

I have him a couple bucks and dashed out, still trying to seem rushed.

I drove down to the Vagabond and sat at the counter, happily working my way through some French Toast. Not gourmet fare, but I’m pretty sure the grease was kind of fresh.