We were really busy this weekend. Properly, old-fashioned busy. Friday night drinks with husband's work colleagues, where I had to speak extra slowly because they were all convinced they wouldn't understand me. Two (american) pints in I'm not sure they could, but I had stopped caring.
Saturday we drove for an hour and a half through a lunar landscape to Santa Barbara, a town I've heard so much about but hadn't made it to yet. It didn't disappoint. From the beautiful pier, green-y turquoise sea to the Spanish style architecture in every single building, it was heavenly. There was a man on a skateboard being pulled along by two Labradors down the main street. A lady locked in the toilet when the handle fell off in her hand, proving looks can be deceiving, because the bathroom was really fancy. Little Toppers bobbing in the ocean, following their leader. Seagulls and Pelicans and a water taxi called 'Little Toot'. It was marvellous. It was still warm, even though the weather man said it is finally starting to cool down. I had a mint choc chip ice cream on the pier.
How do you follow an idyllic afternoon like this? Ikea. Ikea in Burbank, to be specific. If you are a Greater Los Angeles Ikea afficienado, like me, you will know this is the WORST one. It may be the worst Ikea in the world. It has no car park. You have to park 5 minutes walk away, meaning the loading area is some sort of apocalyptic warzone of trollies, trucks and despair. We were barely speaking to each other by the time we got home. This is standard for our trips to Ikea Burbank.
Husband had to work this morning, so went and sat by the pool with his laptop. I built the things we bought in Ikea, drank coffee and listened to my music up loud. Shopping followed, lots of it, then my least favourite part of the week- a driving lesson with husband. I'm no good at driving. I wish I were, but I am terrified and angry at myself the entire time. I've not made it out of the empty car park at the end of the street yet. Today it wasn't so empty because there was a big Romney/Ryan rally outside the Federal Building next door, and it was the first time I wasn't scared because the thought of hitting a few of them cheered me right up.
It's now 1.30 in the morning and everyone from home is getting up, heading in to work and starting their day. This causes me untold confusion, sort of like jet-lag, because I think I'll miss out if I go to bed. The house is still very much alive. The waterfall outside gushes on, the pool is still lit up like christmas, the fan still whirls around, buzzing gently as it goes. It's never quiet here. I think that's why I love it.