I’m starting to think I must be cursed.
Since I moved to SoCal in July, 2003, San Diego County has had the driest year on record (2003-2004), ended by the most rain in one day in places; the worst fires ever (October, 2003); a 5.3 earthquake (June, 2004); and now the third wettest season (so far, the wet season isn’t over yet) on record (about 20 inches since July, when 5-6 is normal).
People are starting to look at me like it’s my fault, I swear. And frankly, I’m surprised it hasn’t snowed in the city this winter. I figure I’m due.
A couple of months ago Christopher and I decided to be bad and go to a local casino to blow some hard-earned cash. We took a back route that Christopher thought he knew, but which required several turns on poorly marked roads.
When we reached El Cajon, Christopher didn’t seem to be able to find the road he needed to turn onto. By the way, I should mention that he’s not one of those guys who won’t ask for directions’it was just dark and the signs were difficult to read.
We drove up and down one of the main streets, me squinting at street signs and him looking for familiar landmarks. Finally I asked him again what street he was looking for. ‘Hammashaw,’ he replied. “Ham-ma-shaw,” I repeated back slowly, and he nodded. I hadn’t seen any signs for ‘Hammashaw’ or anything even close. We kept driving, turned around again, drove back down the hill, turned around again, and back up until finally he noticed a sign and said ‘Here it is!’ and made the turn.
I looked up at the street sign, and noted that I had seen it each time we had passed it. It read:
Have I mentioned I live in Southern California? Duh…