The Plan

• The empty car/super-organized storage unit element of the plan is laughably unsuccessful thus far. It’ll work, it’s just going to need a lot of time thrown at it.
• I’m revamping a few elements: I will have a blankie or two, and while I’ll still get one of those windshield blockers, I’m going to relax a fair bit about people being disturbed and/or the legality of this. As long as I’m not in Beverly Hills or directly in front of a house (or, I suppose, in the same spot for a week) I just don’t think people care.
• If you’re tired enough, anyplace is a happy comfy bed. I almost feel like last night shouldn’t count since I was barely aware of, well, anything really.
• I need to find a way to make my phone stop dialing Tracy whenever it feels like it.

If you talk to me today and I seem a little distracted, this is why:

1. We need to be out out OUT today, and I am not yet out. It’s mostly cleaning and final tidbit bagging, and it shouldn’t be a problem, but it’s a ‘pot odds’ situation more than a ‘hand odds’ one. It shouldn’t take more than a few hours concerted effort, but I don’t even want to consider the unholy devastation that would descend upon me should I fail.

2. To make #1 Extra Exciting^TM, I have another flat tire. The obvious explanation for the frequency with which I experience these is that my mutant power is the de-vulcanization of rubber. You knew they couldn’t all be awesome.

So I MUST remove my belongings from Silverlake, and the car has a flat. Here are some things I do not have:

* A spare tire.

* Money to repair the flat tire (until tomorrow.)

* Tags for the car, or money to register the car (until tomorrow.) This isn’t entirely relevant to the tire issue, but it brings the whole thing to that Bourne Identity level of suspence where, say, a friendly cop stops to help me with the tire and then realizes who I am and impounds my house. Now that I think about it, that’s probably more a Bourne Supremacy kind of thing.

Now, here are some things I DO have:

* An air compressor.

* Some wires that I pulled out of the console of the car and rubbed against the air compressor until I figured out how to make them love each other.

* A tire that, last I checked, will hold maybe fifteen minutes of air at a time.

* Gigantic testicles.

What could go wrong?