One of the things that I liked about going to the pub was that it was a place where one could vent. It's the code of drunks, I suppose, that they're all supposed to let the other rant. Now because of my current automotive difficulties, I've been splitting time between taking cabs and buses, often times taking the bus from work to my former favorite loitering spot in Westlake, and then just taking a cab from there since the bus that runs to my neighborhood ends its routes quite early in the evening.

Tom is my regular driver, and we spend fifteen minutes of my commute just talking sports the whole ride. It's actually kind of relaxing, and it saves me the trouble of having to catch one bus so that I can transfer to another. I used to be really leery about calling cabs, but since there's a driver I like, I can now easily justify the cost by citing the time that I save.

It's also amazing how one's spirits can be lifted once productivity increases. And converse works, too; it's a virtuous cycle that every worker hopes to attain. So my professional life is back in stride, despite the fact that my home life is a mess. But I still consider myself fundamentally "L.A." in the sense that my activities are dictates by how far I can go in my car. And since there's pieces of block and radiator and intake and exhaust on my garage floor, I'll be riding with Tom for a little while longer.