A Typical Morning
Eyes open, the windscreen glowing, sweat's beading over my nose, head pounding. Ugh. I slept late. It must be ten, and the car is an oven. Quick now, into my clothes. Try not to make the car sway too much. Last thing I need is some confused passerby. Listen and look for a quiet moment outside. Open the door and shimmy on out under the cover, and damn, three people saw me. Well, maybe they aren't residents. Better park somewhere else tonight.
Now untie the cover and fold it up. Pack it in the back and I'm on my way. The local supermarket is the next stop and a wholesome meal for under three bucks. A bread roll, a piece of fruit, pint of chocolate milk, and a couple of fried chicken legs. Other times a quarter pound of deli roast beef, sliced thin, and maybe one of those single string cheeses for another thirty five cents. Later in the day I may get a snack at an ethnic store. Which one? It matters little. Every ethnic group serves up a great deal on food most enjoyed by its clientelle. At a Persian store I'll buy sweets or dates, olive oil or pastry. At a Mexican market, in season fruit, beautiful tamales, pan (bread), and maybe chocolates. An Asian store will likely serve up a nice veggie handroll of sweet rice and cucumber and pickled something wrapped in seaweed. There's so much food in Los Angeles you don't need to eat the same thing twice in a month, and you can still live on ten bucks a day.
Drop by the dry cleaner's and pick up a few shirts. Stop at Goodwill to see if there are some dressy shoes for a couple of bucks.
Now over to the fitness club to shave and shower and get presentable. I'll drop by my temp agencies a little later. Always good to glad hand. By noon I am in shirt and tie, and I am making the rounds for some work.
Sound impossible? Or does it sound as simple to you as it seemed to me?