What time is it here? What time is it there?

The coffee is already made. What a relief.

I find the coffee mug in the cooler. “I love you California.” I know that I picked the right place because I can’t wait to go back.

Still, no desk.

It’s humid, but also cool. The clouds are already coming in. When was the last time I saw rain?

So quiet. So quiet. And that is why we came here: space and quiet and a real kitchen and free laundry.

I rub its back. Yeah, there is something therapeutic about having a pet.

They’re all the same.

I keep thinking today is Monday, but it’s Tuesday, which means that there’s actually more work to do on Wednesday. But I’ll figure it out.

She says she couldn’t bring herself to through out the dutch oven. I thank her for that and for everything. But all the food is gone. The generator is in the garage and the extra car key safe in a drawer, just in case looters try to come back and get an idea.

I want to be home, but I also want to be here. But, I also want to be home.

Adulting.