Day 11

Day 11

We are supposed to attend a ninety-minute meeting at midday, but thankfully it's cancelled. I talk to a guy for a few minutes before realizing that he's a local celebrity known for his slide guitar abilities. He's got a dog on a leash and casually mentions that his dog “lives downstairs” from him. He says it in such a weird offhand way, as if it's not weird at all to refer to his dog as if it's his roommate.

Later, as I'm walking by a house, a guy walks out of his house and yells “Happy 4-20!” across the street to his neighbor, who yells back “that's what I'm sayin!” I find this little exchange oddly funny and sort of touching.

I get a phonecall around 2:30. It's my nineteen year old boss, asking me if I want to spend a few days working in a town that's an hour or so east, because they're having some trouble getting their shit together. If I agree, it will mean nearly three hours of dicking around each day and an extra $75 a day or so, and I enthusiastically agree.