Got to work, worked an hour, got on the train.
Went to my parents' house, where I signed a check, then went to AAA (and then DMV because AAA fucked up) to transfer title.
I now hold title on a car which I paid for all by myself.
No, it's not a great car. But as I said to my dad: 'anything above four wheels, working engine, and moves under own power is a plus. What? It has a tape deck? FANTASTIC!!'
Stayed at work a few hours extra to make up the time I took to deal with auto acquisition.
Got in my car to drive myself home.
Sang along with the stereo at the top of my lungs the whole 40 miles.
'The Mariner's Revenge Song' is meant to be sung at the top of your lungs while hurtling down the freeway, I tell you.
Drove home; used new garage door opener for the first time.
parked, came upstairs and RAN for the bathroom.
Looked around while using the toilet and saw:
THE TURNYBUTTON THING IS THERE. I'm sure that it's LYING, because as Mr. Izzard teaches us, all turnybuttonthings lie. But it is there to tell lies to me.
and SO IS THE SHOWERHEAD.
and SO ARE THE FAUCET AND KNOBS IN THE SINK.
It was far too late to call the landlady and ask if her workmen were coming in to paint tomorrow, unfortunately. I'd like to know because such knowledge will shape if I shower in my bathroom (which is currently sans paint) at home when I wake, or if I drive to work and shower there tomorrow for one last time. If they wanna paint tomorrow, I think that I should not clot the place up with steamy hot water in the morning before they come in, lest the paint peel or something. I could take a bath instead of a shower, I guess...
I'll call her in the morning, and check on all this.
God damn I wanna get in there and soak myself in scalding water right now.