Today presented the unique situation, in my life anyway, of going to an escrow office and picking up a check made out to me in the amount of $6,810. Throughout the day I've also been waiting for a potentially life-changing phone call, which, as of 4:30pm, still hasn't come.

I drove to the escrow services office and parked in the vicinity of where I believed the office should be. I wasn't thinking straight, however, and realized that I parked on the odd-numbered side of the street, and the office was on the even-numbered side. I could have gotten back in my car and driven to the other side, reparked, etc, but it all seemed like such a hassle, and I'd already put a quarter in the meter. So I raced across six lanes of Wilshire Boulevard with no problem (on the second try actually; a police car driving by thwarted my first effort) and with less hassle than I was expecting, emerged 20 minutes later from the escrow office with the aforementioned, large check in my name.

Then came time to cross Wilshire again. And it hit me: this is where I die. No matter how safely I cross this street, a truck will come out of nowhere and flatten me. I have just enough life left in me to watch the check fly away in the wind, and to feel my cellphone vibrate in my pocket with that call I was waiting for.

That didn't happen, obviously.

I've moved in to my new apartment in a beach area. Everyone is happy and pretty. Going to the local grocery store last night was one of the least frustrating and most effortless grocery store experiences I've ever had. This is all going to take some getting used to. Everything in my life has been suspiciously fresh and exciting and positive lately. And for once I'm bucking my own M.O. of waiting for the other shoe to drop. Maybe this time, there's only one shoe, and I really will get to the other side of the street every time.