I wake up drooling on my comforter – the sure sign of a good night’s sleep. Surprisingly, the wooden plank under my back didn’t bother me at all. Sun is shining through the blinds that take up most of our one wall. Natural sunlight brings instant happiness. I head downstairs rejuvenated and with a positive outlook on the place. There’s a coffee pot, so why not just make coffee instead of spending money I don’t have. There’s on old filter with coffee grounds in it. Gross, but whatever, I’ll clean it out. The outlet is too far, so I move the pot over a little bit – remnants of who knows what is underneath. Oh, and here comes a roach crawling along the countertop.
7-11 it is. And I feel dirty again. Back at our townhouse, we all do our own thing. Mike and Sonny on their computers, me handwriting my blogs and updating my resumes, and Troy is dialed in. Not really but he’s in his room on the computer, writing a mile a minute, with huge headphones on. I don’t know.
I bring the scale in from the car and of course the guys all weigh themselves. In front of each other, too. I figure I will, too. Not. I just spent four days on the road eating crap and not working out. I will not step on that stupid scale (that I HAD to bring) until I’m good and ready.
Later in the afternoon, we take a family trip to get the essentials. First Walmart, then Ralph’s, the local grocery store. This will definitely be the first and last time we ever go shopping together. We split up at Walmart because we need to get individual things as well. Mike, Sonny and I find our way back to each other, but Troy is missing. Again. We make a joke of it. Too easy, Troy, c’mon. Next is Ralph’s. Same thing again: getting the essentials but our own stuff, too. Blackstone merlot is only $5.99. Take a picture! I don’t. It’s awkward deciding what to share and what to buy on our own. We self-checkout. This is a nightmare for Troy and Mike, but I think it’s funny. Reminds me of being a little kid with the grocery checkout thing, and you could swipe food products and it would beep. Am I making this up? I’m sure I didn’t have it but some of my friends must have.
We head home. I need to go for a run. Troy says he’ll go with me. Awesome, I’m gonna do seven. “Miles?” Yea. “Oh….ok. I’ve never ran that far but I’ll go with you.” Great! A running buddy. We head out. As soon as we leave Mike asks Sonny if he think Troy will make it. “No.” No hesitation.
After a mile we break to walk. I’m not tired at all and Troy recognizes this. I’m not being cocky, I just run all the time so I’m used to it. Troy does not. We get going again. He eventually lets me go and when I feel like it, turn around to meet back up with him. We run together a little while longer. “Just go. I’ll get there eventually.” I don’t mind the stopping and starting, but I listen to him and press on. It’s just about to get dark, and I immediately feel less safe without Troy by my side. I wonder why.
I get back to the townhouse. I can’t call it home yet. I probably won’t ever since we’re only here for three months. Mike and Sonny are having a beer. They make fun of Troy for not making it back with me, but at least he ran at all! Mike never runs with me, and Sonny doesn’t need to because he’s “not eating in the valley.” Well he is, but it’s a diet of yogurt, bananas, eggs, and chicken. I’m not that disciplined.
Troy walks in. His legs are not working, he says. Mike and Sonny are full of jokes. I hop in the shower, which, by the way, is my second shower since arriving, and none of these guys have yet. The pressure isn’t bad, and it’s clean, but it’s definitely small and narrow. I fit perfectly in there. Now picture Troy. Lol. Everything seems to be skinnier in California.
We order pizza from the little place across the street for dinner. It’s been decided: taco Tuesday and pizza Thursday. See how long this lasts. I’m so into it. One margherita and one spinach with four cheeses. Thin crust and chewy. Here I thought there wasn’t supposed to be good pizza in California.
I start to clean the kitchen. Another roach. That makes three (found one the first night, too). I want to gag. Tomorrow we will definitely invest in a roach hotel. Whatever that is.
Upstairs Mike is laying in bed. He’s been tired for the past two hours and it’s only 7pm. We haven’t exactly adjusted to the time change. I get closer to him and see the greasy hair. He STILL hasn’t showered. He’s so gross. I tell him. No real words are spoken.
I need to print my resumes. I need to find a job. I need to start submitting myself for acting gigs. I need to find a better place to run than Burbank Blvd. I need to do a lot of things.
There’s always tomorrow.