Deja Tu.

Today I reordered personal checks for what seems like the first time in my life, though I'm not sure it actually is. The amount of time I spent perusing check designs (wolves, Confederate flag and Boycott the Circus themes being top contenders before I finally settled on Impressionist Artists) being the top really speaks to how intent I am on avoiding my "Kleopatra" coverage, due next week.


Oh, has it really been six weeks already? Has it really? Because honestly, I would have no idea. C'est la vie in the Los Angeles Space and Time Continuum. Six weeks, no, six months of identical conversations with the same people in the same places about the same things with the same results, rotating the same clothes and four pairs of black tights, week in, week out, month in, month out, the same frustrations, the same unsolvables, the same meeting, the same excuses, the same mistakes, the same apologies, the same scripts, the same notes, the same complaints, the same sunshine, the same lunches, the same schedules.


And all of a sudden it's March and my lease is up and I'm out of face sunscreen and no, toothpaste does not last forever, and my bangs fit into my ponytail, which is a lot longer now and my plug in air freshener's all shriveled and there's more mold on the ceiling than I remember because I hate having the fan on while I shower and oh wow, where'd all this dust come from and have I really written twenty five checks already?


If it weren't for all for the fact that so many of the things that I had once are now all used up, I'd have a hard time believing that it wasn't still October.