End of the Line

Ken Veeder photo of the Beach Boys, LINK here, at Paradise Cove, Malibu.

On Tuesday, I went to my therapist for the first time in maybe a month. He was away, I was away, etc., so we missed some sessions.

I told him about how much I loved the Pacific Coast Highway drive with my friends when I was 24, and how I couldn't wait to get back there. How I dreamt as a young woman of living in Calfornia, by that coast, and how that influenced me to live by the sea in New Jersey in my first apartment.

How I had finally returned on Sunday, since I had been flown to CA for a work trip. Taken some dips at Zuma Beach, but missed my family, especially when surrounded by so many beaching parents and kids. 

Then about my flat tire on PCH and the stressful time I had at Paradise Cove--cell phone dying, trudging and sliding through sand in my flat Tory sandals to find hidden power outlet, waiting for Malibu Towing driver to call when he arrived, jockeying for a seat with everyone else in those high beach chairs, balancing a sandwich and a bottle of iced tea. Others were on dates, splashing in the water, digging into huge platters of food, sipping Banana Rum Daiquiris through colorful straws. He listened carefully and then told me that if someone wrote that in a novel--I had a flat tire at Paradise Cove--it would seem unbelievable.

But it happened. And not just that happened, lots of things have happened to help me see that changes must be made.

Allow me to list them:

ON THE ROAD

• Phantom rental car. I thought our debit card would be charged when I reserved a rental car, but now H. tells me it's generally charged when you get the car. I waited til the last minute, though, for money reasons, and booked mine early Friday morning to drive to L.A. from Rancho Cucamonga, where the work meeting was. When I called to pick it up about 2 p.m., even though I had a confirmation number, and had spoken to someone in person on the national number, I was told there were no rental cars. I was scared and upset, as I've never been in L.A. alone, those freeways were a bit daunting--and now I'd have no wheels.The agent called another branch but said there were no cars available in town. He suggested I go to the Ontario, CA airport to get one. I panicked, then realized I could take an Uber car for under $10 to get there, which I did.
• Unglam neighborhood. Tears sprung to my eyes when I learned where H. had booked a hotel for me, I think on priceline. Again, we had waited until our checks had cleared, so there was money on our debit cards. H. travels a lot for work and is good about finding deals. But what he found for me was an Extended Stay America in Northridge, a neighborhood of Los Angeles. It was $119 per night. He said, It's about 40 minutes away from everywhere you want to go, and If you're spending all your time in the hotel, anyway, you're doing the wrong thing. I acted spoiled, I know I did. I was just very disappointed. I went on yelp and read about roaches and someone's car being stolen and other things. Turns out it was fine, if you don't mind cooking smells [some people really do extended stays] and a cigarette aroma if the AC wasn't blowing. I also didn't feel very safe. I parked that first night in the last spot, next to a little truck piled high with junk tied onto it.
• Siri's silent treatment. When I plugged my cell phone cord into the Ford Escort to charge it, it somehow turned off the audio on my phone, but I was already on my way. I rely heavily on Siri's voice to tell me how to get places. But no, the audio stopped working, so I had to keep looking at my phone for directions while driving solo for the first time on a series of California highways. Not fun--or safe, or relaxing.
• Tourist traps. I should have looked more carefully, or researched first, but didn't. So I foolishly paid $25 cash to park in a garage on Ocean Avenue in Santa Monica and then ended up eating in a restaurant right nearby that would have validated my parking ticket so I would only have had to pay $8. And there was a big sign on the sidewalk announcing that. Ouch.
• Flat tire. By now, you're sick of hearing about that. But flat as a pancake in Paradise Cove, Malibu.
• Missed flight. On the way home, I didn't allow enough time to return that little white Budget rental car. The rental car shuttle to the terminals was packed, terminal 7 was the last drop-off, and by the time I got there, I was directed to get on another flight, which left about 7 hours later. At least I didn't have to pay for that. However, I did have to pay $25 to check a bag at United Airlines.

BACK AT HOME [and thank God, Punchy is visiting her grandma for about two weeks and Figgy is up in Maine, both girls safe and sound]

• No fridge. Our Bosch, which is less than 6 years old, has died. The repairman came once to add Freon but you can't keep doing that. Now it's a goner. We have to buy a new one.
• Chattering teeth. Huge, and I mean huge, dental bills in our family, for an extensive procedure that could no longer be postponed.
• No A.C. in car. Our 2005 Honda CR-V has about 250,000 miles on it. It's our only vehicle, unless you count our bikes. The A.C. died and our good mechanic said it's the fan, not the Freon, and that we have to bring it to the dealer. Anticipating steep bill, so waiting on that. Driving with windows open.
• No internet or TV. We have the couple hundred $ needed to reconnect it--it's been off maybe 9 days?--but we are trying to figure out if we should go without it a while longer and maybe switch providers, get rid of land line, etc. Hence, I am writing from Starbucks right now. And of course, you can access the internet on your iPhone at home. But you can't use the almighty i for the kind of work I do, writing, editing and sending documents--or working remotely for a company in Creative Workflow program.
• Another daunting payment plan. Too personal to delve into here.
• Oil tank. We are supposed to be making a $2,400 payment monthly on that new hulking behemoth in the basement. We have fallen behind.
• Uber thief. H. is in Pittsburgh for a reporting assignment all week, and someone copped his debit card numbers. Fortunately, I caught it right away via online banking and cancelled H.'s card. Now have to get Uber to pay us back the $64 [for a single ride].

All of which brings me to the End of the Line...I love that song, see lyrics below. End of the line. Must find full-time job with benefits. I must be really, really, really stubborn and strong-willed if my Higher Power had to pull all of those strings to get me to see the light. Everything has converged to transmit that message to me.

Good night, sleep tight.

End of the Line

Traveling Wilburys

Well it's all right, riding around in the breeze
Well it's all right, if you live the life you please
Well it's all right, doing the best you can
Well it's all right, as long as you lend a hand

You can sit around and wait for the phone to ring (end of the line)
Waiting for someone to tell you everything (end of the line)
Sit around and wonder what tomorrow will bring (end of the line)
Maybe a diamond ring

Well it's all right, even if they say you're wrong
Well it's all right, sometimes you gotta be strong
Well it's all right, as long as you got somewhere to lay
Well it's all right, everyday is judgment day

Maybe somewhere down the road aways (end of the line)
You'll think of me, wonder where I am these days (end of the line)
Maybe somewhere… Full lyrics on Google Play

TCOY

1. Walking home now, about 25 min.
2. Day 3 no sweet treats, helping me see more clearly.
3. Met my friend Anne for iced coffee today.
4. Writing this blog post. Was going to push myself to keep working but have been working for hours, and this thought processing is helpful.