6:12pm on Thursday, October 25th, Pasha races towards the Golden Gate Bridge. Frantic for parking, he decides to throw himself out of the moving car. Amongst the blaze of the Honda Civic fire, he dashes towards the white and black mass strewn in the grass. He kneels beside the detestable and repulsive heap of human, resembling his girlfriend, and he scoops her into his arms and says, “My love, I will carry you home.” Drenched in mucus and sweat I retort, “How did you find me?” Softly in my ear he replies, “Lassie told me.”
Ok, so that didn’t really happen. And for the record, Pasha would NEVER carry me home. He might drive to where I’d be laying, roll down the window and say, “I can’t find parking – please get up and let’s get some dinner; I’m starving.”
I did, however, go for a run yesterday (on sore legs), and during the run I thought – crap, I might die right here - right now. So, I looked for a spot in the grass to finish out my remaining time, and nothing looked appealing. Defeated, I turned around and went home.
The running must be doing something right because I did manage to make it to my rehearsal last night for The Lamplighter’s Gala. This short comedic satire of Harry Potter is going to be sensational. We listened to the whole first act yesterday, and I barley noticed the fact I missed an episode of The Office.
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