Something strange about living in Los Angeles . . . it’s the home to so many famous people and when something happens to them you are right there – you know what I mean?
Michael Jackson, the world’s most gifted entertainer, dies 2 minutes from where H was working yesterday and no more than 15-20 minutes from our condo. I’m at home last night and look out the window to see the helicopter carrying his body fly by. The night before he passes away he’s two blocks down the street rehearsing.
. . . and this sort of thing is just every day life here in LA.
Strange days indeed.
Good news is the washer/dryer repair guy will be here sometime between 10 am and 2 pm today. I love the four hour window *sarcasm*. Hey, whatever it takes to get clean clothes on this guy’s body – I’m all for it.
Still haven’t decided how we are going to play the whole cost of the washer/dryer. Still waiting to speak with our legal friend and I am hoping to steal some time this afternoon to make some calls to the city of Los Angeles. It doesn’t help that I’m generally a nice guy and don’t want to start some kind of conflict. However, $100 is a $100 and I’m not about to lay down for some loaded dude from OC.
Sticking with current events – a woman called on Wednesday wanting to know about our recent experience at the dealership service department. I explained what happened and was told a manager would call tomorrow to talk about our unsatisfactory service. You think a call came through? Hell no.
H keeps buying these soft cookies for me at Ralph’s. They are incredibly delicious but can’t be good for me at all.
