The Paperwork

Changing Stations

My first day alone in LA.



You know you've moved to a new place when you reset the radio stations in your car. I kept scanning through the stations to find ones similar to the ones I listened to up north. I can't find a public radio station that makes me as happy as KQED does, but then I'm stuck with whatever station plays Ray Suarez.


This morning I woke up at 10am after about 11 hours of sleep. Or 11 hours of coma -- I was in the same position as when I went to sleep. It was the longest amount of time I've been asleep for a while now. I needed it.

I only remembered a tiny bit of one dream. I had been a guest on a Barbara Walters special on which she'd interviewed 10 or 20 people, not celebrities but people in different fields. The New York Times reviewed the show and said that I had nothing to say but I said it very wittily.

I'm self-deprecating even in my dreams.

After puttering around and making lists and checking e-mail and making more lists, it suddenly dawned on me that I was deliberately wasting time in order to avoid leaving the apartment.


I realized that I was really harsh on Deirdre yesterday. I'm not going to change the entry, but I have to say that when they took off yesterday everyone was in a good mood and we had had a nice time at lunch.


I just brought in a ton of new furniture from IKEA, and I still don't have a sofa. I have no idea how I'm going to put all this stuff together without Darin. However, living with a bunch of boxes until Darin comes back doesn't seem pleasant, so I guess I've got to bite the bullet.

I'm going to be biting the bullet anyhow. I've thrown out my back by lifting these huge, heavy boxes. It hasn't hurt this much in a long time. It may be time to go buy some bubble bath and soak for two or three hours. When my back hurts like this, it feels like there's a hot coal buried in the small of my back.

On the up side, I've already talked with more of my neighbors in this building than I talked to in the three years I lived by myself in Mountain View. "Ed" helped me carry in the heaviest box, the bookcase. I call him "Ed" because I can't remember whether it was "Ed" or "Ned". Sigh.


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Last Updated: 19-Aug-96
Copyright ©1996 Diane Patterson