I don't have a taco rec for you today.

I almost ordered an emergency taco kit from Guerilla Tacos, mostly just so I could write to you about it, but ten pounds of meat sounds like a lot. Also, the kit now only comes with one roll of tp. At the beginning, it was four! Which, genius. 

The tp situation is pretty dire in our neck of the woods. (Yours too I imagine, judging from the memes?) I came up empty on my first run two weeks ago. Last week R drove around for an hour and returned with a 9-pack of Quilted Northern. Not my preferred, one-ply Scott, which lasts forever and leaves zero lint in its wake. But. I'm grateful to have toilet paper, period. Grateful that's all I have to complain about.

I'm sitting on the porch as I draft this, bundled up, I've got on a light puffer plus a sweatshirt. Socks. It'll be t-shirt weather in a few hours though, when the sun moves across my chair.

The birds are chirping. The birds seem thrilled. The air is noticeably cleaner in Los Angeles, though I can still hear the light hum of traffic, cars zipping on and off the 2. I've started listening for that hum. Appreciating it, even. It has become an indicator of civilization. I can freak myself out a little, thinking, what if I got up and the hum was gone? What would that mean?