Living at home as an adult (or spoiled post-graduate moocher, as I'm sure some others view me) has its ups and downs. Yesterday was a down. Pile onto that: a car that has become dangerous to drive (stalls and shuts down while in motion), a growing list of deadlines I can hardly keep up with, a day spent in front of a computer screen, and not much sleep the night before, and I was itching to leave the house.
The phone rang. It was Mr. A.
"Get me out of here!" I wailed into the receiver.
"Wow."
"Yeah," I confirmed.
"I'll be there in five minutes."
As it happened, he was in the area after playing tennis at UCSD. He picked me up and we met his friend at Croutons, one of my favorite "nouveau California" establishments. Not surfer, not silicon valley, not smoothies, but perky high-calorie salads disguised as health food, favored by slightly chunky college students who like to pretend they're dieting. Mmm.
They probably would have hung out by themselves, and I might have kept on craigslisting for apartments, but instead I ate a salad and grilled cheese sandwich and talked about religion in India.
Gained: Change of perspective.
