...as I have nothing more to do than laundry, dishwashing and writing left to wrap up before bedtime.
I came home a few minutes ago and realized I smell like burning tires. Michelins, for those of you with sensitive noses. So I will spend as much time on this as possible before I can't stand myself and rush for the shower.
The photo shoot went well. I gave D. some of the best photos he has done in some time. I also scared myself witless three or four times, and feel a little tired.
But the best thing is that I solved the Airport Parking Crisis. With the help of a rep from a company that historically has gone the extra mile for me when necessary. Thanks to them, the expensive wheels stay home, D. drives me to the airport early in the morning, and another car will be waiting for me there when I return Friday afternoon.
I don't know if my pathetic whiny recounting of what crawling home from LAX on bloody hands and knees would do to me had any effect. I suspect it is simply that they like dealing with me, find my reviews of their products fair, and are willing to bend a rule to help out in a pinch. The call was made in sheer desperation, and I would not have been offended if they couldn't help.
I like them, too. It's a near-perfect relationship: they are nice to me, and I am fair -- and nice -- to them.
It is very possible that I will be grouchy again in a couple of hours. I still have to write 500 words, do some editing and send off the article I started this morning, see about dishes and laundry and pack.
I can always sleep on the plane....
1 hour ago