"See you soon!"
I think I need to lay low for awhile. Or try to go during someone else's shift.
After spending the evening at Ikea becoming fluent in Swedish furniture names, my bedroom in my new bedroom is fully equipped with a bed, a mattress, and a night stand. All unassembled and still in their boxes, their wordless instruction manuals just waiting to be misinterpreted by yours truly.
I think I'm kind of doing this whole Become A Grown Up thing a little backwards. Car? Check. Lovely apartment? Check. Bed? Check. Job to afford all of the above, plus food, gas, cable and clothing? Hm.
Sitting here, babysitting my laundry (here at the Oakwoods, one must babysit their laundry or else it will for sure get stolen by some mongrel, thrill seeking, struggling child actor) makes me realize how fantastic it will be to 1. Have laundry machines in my apartment and 2. Not live in the Oakwoods anymore.
The Oakwoods is about as weird as it gets. Case in point: Two seconds ago, I heard the approaching voice and struggles of a man clearly dragging something heavy while, in between gasps for air, shouting words of encouragement to what I presumed to be a dog - "Come on, puppy. That's it, boy! Come on! Good puppy! We're almost there!" This naturally sparked my curiosity and, from my seat atop the counter in the Oakwoods laundry room, I stared at the door, waiting for this parade to pass by. I wanted to see what kind of dog it was, it seemed interesting to me that it was a kind of dog that obeyed on encouragement alone and not a leash or something.
When it did, it turned out to be this guy with hairplugs wearing a spandex exercise suit, struggling to maneuver two sections of an exercise bike down the hallway. He absolutely did not have a dog with him.
Sometimes the people here make me feel like an in touch genius, which does not say much for L.A..
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