An Armor of Hugs and a Sword of Magic Faery Wings

It's wonderful to see how short the journey is from despair to hope. It can happen in a touch, in a word, in a glance. It's almost enough to make one forget how quickly the return trip could be made.

Today I got to work late. Alli got a flat tire last week, and her car was in the shop today. She borrowed my car in the morning, to run a few errands, and then intended to take me to work. Of course, somewhere in Century City or Studio City or some other Well Outta Walking Range City -- she locked her keys in the car. I couldn't come and pick her up, because, after all, it was my car. Jared drove out to pick me up, and so, my work day was cut an hour short. Too much time when I look at my bank account, but too little time when I evaluate my mood just prior to that 7:00 PM whistle time.

There are new floors at work. They're black tile and already scuffed. It all smells of adhesive and melted plastic. It's hideous and inorganic.

And today was frigid and damp -- which was a pleasant change of pace. I got to wear my winter coat, which I haven't done in two years, not since I was in Las Vegas, hanging Christmas decorations. It felt nice to wear layers. I like that feeling. Like an armor of hugs. Which, I think, would ALSO be a good name for my Memoirs.

Sort of like the note I saw scribbled on my coworker's pad today... "The boy who pooped rainbows."

I'm looking forward to painting a few walls in my apartment, for Zaniness Ensues. I'm hoping that Barb will help me do so. And Alli's birthday is Thursday. I'm hoping her gift arrives in time; otherwise, I will have to postpone her birthday until Friday.

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