Conspiracy Theory

I am suspicious. Today I am in the office of my second job, receptionist at a charter school. As my mind wanders (my duties are few and far between), I find my attention drawn to the business suite directly across my office. Often I have wondered about them. My mother and I have had a few conversations about their unusual habits. My curiosity prompted me to google them and now I am even more confused. Taitsu America, I don't trust you.
Their employees pee way too often. I am have never seen human beings go in and out of a bathroom so many times in one day (the suites share a community bathroom). I rarely see customers and when I do they are almost always well dressed Japanese businessmen going into this suite employing mostly young, attractive, hip Japanese people. We accidentally received some of their mail once and, happy to have an excuse to enter, I went over and took it to them. The place smells rank. Today, after googling them, I see them advertised as a hardware store? Hardware?? I have never seen anything but people go in and out of there. No hardware. There are a few possibilities that would render them a legitimate business establishment, one of which is probably accurate. But to make my long boring days here a little more interesting, I'm going to go on believing they are operating a drug running/prostitution scam twenty feet away from me.

A Hold On Me

The hours of 1 and 2 am have become very familiar to me. Thanks in part to a new work schedule that means never having to be in before 11, and in part to Skins series 1 and 2 on DVD (a gift from my dear friend Shaun Conde), the hour I fall asleep keeps getting pushed later and later. My bed and I now spend many wakeful hours together and have become much better acquainted. Now, instead of simply being a surface to sleep on, it is a place to cuddle up with my laptop and my blanket, watching my favorite british tv actors lead wonderfully dramatic lives.

Part of me really wants to get out of this bed however, and go outside. 2 o'clock in the morning seems to be a magical time to be alone outdoors. So quiet, dark, sometimes foggy, dreamy. If I wasn't plagued by the fear of National City wildlife (skunks, possums, even coyotes), I might. Alas, I am held captive by the fear of, no, not the gang members and drug dealers that may inhabit this ghetto-ish neighborhood, but the skunks. Not your typical co-existing demographics.