Boss: Who's on [line] B?
Me: Your mom.
I thought it was funny.
Every once in awhile, after a particularly unbelievable - either the figurative, simile for "good" or the literal, "I can't believe that happened" - day at work, I'll be driving away from the office at the PM version of the AM time I drove there and really see my life for what it is and I have to laugh, because I never saw it coming.
One of my favorite parts of the day happens right after I park my car in the garage, when this little garage attendant that has been dubbed "Juan Carlo" greets me from afar with either a wave, a bow, or just soft applause. Once I get within earshot, the following conversation takes place:
Juan Carlo: Good morning, Miss.
Me: Good morning!
Juan Carlo: Have a nice day!
Me: You too!
On Fridays he gives a resounding, "Happy Friday!" instead of the usual "Have a nice day." Initially I tried to strike up more of a conversation with him, but I quickly learned that his consistency has everything to do with the fact that he only seems to have a few catch phrases in English repertoire. Since I have even less in my Spanish one, I stick with the basics.
I've been contemplating some Rosetta Stone-type self-educating Spanish cds for my car, so that my traffic ridden trek over Coldwater Canyon every morning can be used to learn instead of to listen to Ryan Seacrest catch some local cheating scoundrel boyfriends on the radio while continuing to insist that he is, in fact, a hetero male.
Anyway. It's fall. School's staring, the air is crisp, the leaves are beginning to change color, the apples are ripe for the picking and soon it'll be Barbour weather.
Or so I hear. I don't go to school anymore and I live in L.A., where apparently fall is a lot like winter, which is not much different than summer, give or take a few degrees.
It's pretty good.
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