So there I was in the heart of Los Angeles at a dumpy little clinic. I sat in the waiting room with Danthony surrounded by about 40 very low class hispanic people and ZERO white people wondering if I had accidently ended up in Mexico instead of Los Angeles. The Mexican girl sitting next to me had about 10 piercings in various locations on her face and whenever Danthony dropped the toy he was playing with and it rolled under her chair she just glared at me. The clinic sat literally 10 feet from a train track so every 10 minutes or so a train went by the entire building shook. At first I thought it was an earthquake but all the employees kept working as normal. It took me an hour and 50 minutes to get to the clinic in traffic with a baby who had missed his morning nap. We sat in the office for 2 hours only to learn that the court-mandated visit to this clinic had been completely pointless. I left the clinic exasperated and not very excited about my upcoming drive home in traffic with a baby who had missed 2 naps and was quite grumpy. Upon arriving at my car I discovered that my car was dead. So what did I do next? I sat and stewed out in my mind what I should do. After determining that the battery was dead, I found a strange looking person of unknown gender to jump my car (after he/she/it did a 20-point turn to get into the parking space next to mine with his/her/it's huge truck). I made it home safely.
That was my day. How was yours?
That was my day. How was yours?
Comments
"good thing for its"? What is that, Christa?