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Location: Work.
Lunch: Carl's Jr.
Listening: "Nobody But The Baby" ~ Emmylou Harris, et. al.

The silence of the morning holds now, halfway into the afternoon. Mixed reports have reached my cubicle of Greenwich suits being spotted on the other side of the floor and of tomorrow actually being the big day (citing a last-minute decision for the tour to hit Manhatten Beach first). Per usual, neither has been confirmed nor denied. I remain Zen.

At lunch, I dropped a roll of film (Fuji 800 spd. color 24 exp.) off at Fromex down on 2nd--not a terribly important occasion, except that this is the first full roll of film I've ever taken on my camera. I'm anxious to see how the pictures turn out, although none of them were "formal" or terribly experimental--just a collection of snaps from the gaming night and Saturday night in Newport. If I come across something really special, I'll post it.

When I presented my film to the clerk at Fromex, she asked for my phone number and frowned slightly at the computer screen. "Peter S****?"

I knew what was coming, so I responded, "No, but we live together, so the information should be correct." She squinted at me and said "Oh, so you're Mrs. S****?". "No, I'm Leigh P****." She looked ultimately confused, so I explained carefully that Peter and I live together and the information he gave them applied to me and my order as well. When I was finished, she squinted at me once more. "Well...I'll put your name on the account too." I thanked her. A few moments later, she informed me that the account was now under "Peter and Leigh S****-P****" or, rather, "Peter and "Lay" as she mispronounced my middle name.

People. God Bless It.

I've never been particularly snippy when folks have been confused about my marital status--usually, I gently correct them and move on, attempting to spare them any possible embarrassment. This was a difficult method to apply in Houston as the questioners simply refused to be embarrassed and would often stand there and proceed to ask me why I wasn't married--pretty girl like me at my age, etc. or, worse, when I planned on getting married--assuming that my boyfriend and I must be engaged if we were living together. This would be a big part of why I dislike Texans. But I digress...

I've never been terribly snippy about the issue, but it never ceases to amaze me that people--especially those in California--cannot seem to readily comprehend that I am a female who lives with a male to whom she is neither engaged nor married. Apparently, they've never heard of the concept of "roommates"--or of "living in sin", for that matter. It gets tiresome.