The mail yesterday was not so bad as I thought, at least it does not seem so thus far. I received a notice from West Hollywood, as I had expected--well, not so much expected--I mean feared. I had feared that there would be some additional charge to what was paid on the night that Trisa and I took back my car from the clutches of Hollywood authorites, even though the receipt seemed to include all conceivably relevant fees. I was nevertheless worried that I'd forgotten about something.
What I received yesterday, I could not exactly make heads or tails of. I'm not certain if it's simply a notice that my vehicle had been stored by them at one point, which is the nearest thing to making sense of it. What it seems to be is a notice that they are still storing my vehicle and why haven't I picked it up? Which would be awfully extraordinary as I seem to recall parking my car and driving it about scores of times since the incident.
I suppose I ought to eat breakfast . . . Gods, I want a latte.
Not sure what I want to do with this day.