WE ARE BACK, BABEYYY

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 I’m writing this in a Discount Tire, because Dani needed her tires rotated and balanced, and Discount Tire not only sends reminders, but they do it for free! Why wouldn’t I take care of the tires? They cost me $600.

One of them, the wheels or the rim or something, is slightly bent, they said, but it’s not a safety concern and they see it all the time. 

(Knowing Dani, she’ll drive perfectly until it blows out. Mad respect, Dani. But don’t.)

On my way back to my hotel room— because ya girl did a staycation; I wanted to go to the beach but Dani needed a transmission and, okay, I also wanted to get totally railed, and I can’t at my sister’s house— I called my mechanics, because, you know?

This has been a shitshow month, but Dani and I persevered. We endured. We endured shitty California mechanics, and horrible transmission timing, and a current financial state that is, to say it bluntly, dire. But we have always made it out alive.

My credit cards have been nearly maxed out for her repairs before and I have managed to pay it off every single time. I will do it again.

This week wasn’t a shitshow but got fucking WILD. I can’t even explain how wild it got, but it gave me a lot to think about. Self reflection is good for the soul, but these blackout noise muffling curtains and the ability to choose my room’s temperature make naps too tempting, so there’s no self reflection. Only self healing from the exhaustion, which my epileptic brain loves.

Plus we all know how much clearer my mind is at the beach. The amount of rest I get. The waves crashing and the sun on my skin and I just… fall into pieces, I love it. The Pacific Ocean is my Magic 8 Ball and I have never needed it more.

Alex said that as long as I take it easy— no insane amount of weight, no 120mph, and slow down on the hills— Dani and I should be just fine for our maiden voyage since the timing belt and transmission, just in time to catch the last dregs of summer’s heat. I told Alex I was thinking maybe 70-80mph for maximum fuel economy and he laughed. He said that that would be okay  

Oh, also, I quit my jobs for one better-paying one. The boy has not said I told you so yet, but I’m sure he’s thinking it. Regardless, this better paying one will give me weekends off, for the most part, and I plan to use them to catch as many rays as possible.

Are my credit cards nearly maxed out? Did I already put forth a majority of my just-deposited paycheck towards my cards— saving $200 for gas and my insurance? Yes. 

Do I have a fat load of shit I need to think about, and ruminate on, and ask the Pacific?

Yes. 

So Dani and I soldier on.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time to scroll my bucket list and find our next beach  

This is Oceanic One-Brain-Cell-Bitch, signing off. 

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