Not sure that's actually Newark's code, but close enough. It's 5:15 now; my car came at 4; I'm a little bleary. I paid for some kind of airport pay-as-you-go plan so as to download a few 'Friday Night Lights' episodes for the flight, and might as well get a little mileage, (unintended but I'll let it go.) Nothing's open yet; there's this amazing cereal bar that opens at six, where (the menu tells me) they do custom blends of cereals! There's a list of "customer favorites" and there's this "Very Berry" deal that combines Fruit Loops, Cap'n Crunch Berry, and dried berries, to good effect one imagines. Anyway, I'm going to try it.
The reason I got here so early: I just have that expired 12-year-old Learner's Permit by way of ID, which means extra security plus a few forms. I'm starting to own the horribleness of the picture though, in which I resemble a nine-year-old troll and which neatly substantiates my teen-ugly-duckling claims.
I had all kinds of elaborate plans for getting the apt spick and packing efficiently, but a very trying extra hour at work (confidentiality, sadly) threw my plans off with a bang, and I was forced to eat both the steak sandwiches I'd packed by, well, five a.m. Besides the ID shenanigans, forgot about the little matter of suitcases and was forced to choose between one of the two vintage Lady baltimore hunter green suitcases which serve as my TV stand: a mammoth 2x4 deal filled with Christmas decorations, or a diminutive overnight case quite inadequate to the demands of a week's trip in sweater weather. Went with the latter; sat on it; it will most certainly pop open at some point in transit. However, will be unmistakable on the baggage carousel. Still, like the small scale of my arrangements.
Slim texted me some directions to the place, where I've been told to ascend to the garret and immediately ply some dog called Malcolm with a piece of cheese. I don't have a piece of cheese, but I guess I can find one before I arrive. The key is under a sandollar by a yellow flower in the third window box. In case you were wondering.
(Download progressing well, but it'll be close, for sure. I really, really don't want to have to fall back on this Iris Murdoch novel I'm plowing through, full of arid dialogues and remote interrelationships between asexual persons.)
Turns out Eloise will be in California, too, assisting with the olive harvest. So this weekend I'm going to join them in the groves and hopefully get a little EVOO out of the business.
Really want this cereal bar to open.
I was very difficult the other night and attempted a breakup. The attempt was rebuffed, and Slim very sweetly suggested we get married so he could support me, which is really neither here nor there. The whole thing gave him terrible dreams. Must be very good this week. He has some nice things planned. Hoping one of the nice things isn't some kind of surprise wedding - always possible with him. Not that I wouldn't do it, just to be a good sport. And my calendar's not that full, either.