Since we were living out of a tent
my car became our lockerroom.

Sunday morning, it’s time to go. Everyone is packing stuff up and cleaning the house. I try to take a shower but there’s no hot water left, so I resort to squatting in the tub and slowly dousing myself with handfuls of water from the tap. Takes me forever to get the soap off.

The first group leaves in a big-ass GMC truck, I think it was a Denali. I get in my car with my carmates, crank the ignition, and...nothing. I crank it again. Nothing, not a peep.

I’d been coming out and sitting in the car and playing the radio every night, and it looks like I killed the battery.

We back Lila’s truck up to mine, I do the thing with the jumper cables, then we’re good to go.

The drive back was lonnnnnnng. The girls, all of them socially conscious, began having political discussions I was desperate to avoid. Luckily they were pretty wrapped up in it and asked me no questions.


The next morning I got up to go to work, and saw in the mirror that I was bright red from the weekend in the sun. It looked less like a tan and more like Shame. Just my luck, I finally get some sun but now I’m apparently allergic. I spent the whole day at work looking embarassed for something I didn’t do. At least I got to train.