Simma down now

It’s only now that this place is starting to feel a little like home.
I was driving back from picking up a futon on a road I knew, taking a shortcut I had discovered without glancing at my mapquest notes, and things were looking familiar all around, and I couldn’t wait to get home and have a nice, relaxing Saturday night.
Sure, this place has its quirks. You can’t make a U-turn anywhere. The average speed of traffic on every highway (“freeway” here) is 70 and above, making lane changes in any of the five lanes a fun dance with death. We are the minority, and I find myself wishing I had taken more Spanish in high school than having Katey Edson teach me “Where is my meatball?”
We live in a guest house in Van Nuys (pronounced “van-eyes”), which is in the Valley, and if you don’t know how most of LA reacts when you tell them you live in “the Valley,” walk up to someone and tell them you were forced to eat a slug for breakfast. Yes, it’s that delightful look of pity and disgust that make us Valley dwellers proud that we pay almost $500 less per month to live 10 more minutes away from all the rich people.
So far the only drawback I’ve noticed to living here, rather than 10 miles south, is that it is literally a valley, and in addition to the smog (which doesn’t seem as bad as stereotypes would dictate), apparently all the spiders in southern California have skidded down into it and right into my house.
We’ve seen 2 black widows and about a skillion of some normal house spider, not to mention hundreds of ants marching through my house mistaking our blow-up bed for a delicious gigantic blue grain of sugar.
Speaking of — “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids” is full of shit, and I can’t remember if their asshole ant friend died in it, but I hope he did, and I hope there’s a Disneyland ride about it because I’ll drive right over there and kick that ant’s ass.
I don’t like bugs.
Other than that, this place is pretty awesome so far, and the awesomest news of all is that of the existence of my new kitten, Scamp. He has officially earned his name by hiding from me under the bathroom cabinet, under the oven, and under the refrigerator, soaking his paws in the condenser coils, then jumping on my bed and stamping wet paw prints all across it, but he warmed my heart last night by curling up under my chin and falling asleep with me, so I guess it’s okay. Expect pictures as soon as I get my computer hooked up and when Scamp stops scampering up to the camera and trying to rub his cheeks on it.

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