December 27, 2005

The Wrong Side of Surreal

Morning Workout
1 1/2 hours
Heart Rate Zone: Aerobic (Zone 1)

Random Comments: 16+ years of living in Los Angeles, and I still am amazed every day I ride or run along the beach. Just another beautiful day in paradise.

RUN (treadmill)
3 x (7 1/2 minutes in Aerobic Conditioning (Zone 3) + 2 1/2 minutes easy)

Random Comme
nts: It's always the first one of these three runs that hurts the most. That's probably the only part that is exercise anyway... the rest is just some sort of sick compulsion fueled by God knows what.

It started off as a great day. Cat and I woke up and had a wonderful, relaxing ride. That led us right into a strenuously exhilirating run. Then we both went off to run our errands and get some personal stuff done before we met up for the evening. Oh... but then we found out Cat's car got stolen.


It got stolen right out of her garage-like area. Right in the same place she's been parking it for 8 years. Right next to all of the other cars. Right under the windows of all of the neighbors. Right there.

On Christmas.

They stole her car on Christmas! Now I don't know who this proverbial "they" are, but I think I can pretty much say without fear of being wrong that they don't believe in Santa Claus. And they didn't get any good gifts for Christmas. And I could really give a shit about what they want and need at this point. I just want Cat to have her car back.

And now we leave for Tahoe and Mammoth tomorrow morning. And Cat needs to deal with the police, and the insurance broker, and the adjuster, as she tries to remember everything that was in the car. Though most of it can never ever be replaced as its sentimental value far outweighs any monetary value placed on it.

The odds of her actually seeing her car again is somewhere between slim and good fucking luck. She had a Toyota, the most popular car amongst the LA car-thief set. Toyota's get stolen quite frequently for their parts, which are so common that they've got great resale value and fuel the auto parts black market. So by the time Cat actually realized the car was missing, it was probably already somewhere in East LA, in the back of a warehouse garage, broken down into a million little pieces scattered about the floor, each one stacked side by side with similar parts from thousands and thousands of other never-to-be-seen-again Toyotas and Hondas that, too, once held stuff of great sentimental value which will never be seen again.

It's almost surreal.
But the sad type of surreal. The sad and aggravating type of surreal.
Not the type of surreal I like.
Not at all.