I wake up without the alarm clock now on most mornings. Roll out of bed. Use the toilet. Brush teeth. Brush hair (sometimes). Get dressed (in the dark because Paul is usually still asleep or pretending to be). Grab my laptop and a bottle of water, sometimes a banana or a croissant if we've got them and head out the door for the elevator.

Ah, the drive to work. I'm sure no one enjoys the drive to work, but in Los Angeles, even a five-mile commute is more, shall we say "interesting" than most longer commutes in other cities.

7:20 a.m. Get into car. Close door in the nick of time, before car zipping down narrow street slams into it.

7:21 a.m. Pull onto main road. Notice rear window is covered with condensation and moisture thus making lane changes difficult. Damn Paul for always snagging the inside spot. Curse not having a house and two-car garage.

7:23 a.m. Condensation seems to be melting. Preparing to shift into the left turn lane but there is a big slow truck in the way.

7:24 a.m. Curse the truck as I watch the left turn light go from green to yellow as I squeeze by said truck and make it into the left turn lane just as the left turn light turns...red.

7:27 a.m. Finally make left turn.

7:28 a.m. Am behind Culver City bus which is stopping every block making me miss green lights. Then the bus pulls away before the light turns green and cuts me off so it is always ahead of me. Would switch to the other lane but there is a Very Old Person driving an oldsmobile that looks like it's about to sputter and die in the middle of the street.

7:29 a.m. Curse bus. Curse oldsmobile.

7:30 a.m. Speed up to a ridiculous speed at the intersection with a camera so can make it before light turns red.

7:31 a.m. Breathe sigh of relief no cops around and didn't see a flash at the intersection indicating a ticket in the mail, taunt bus which I am now ahead of, yay! And eat my dust oldsmobile!

7:32 a.m. Car zooms by me even though I am going 40 mph on a local road. Clearly someone who has just broken free of the oldsmobile/bus traffic jam and is now agitated and wanting to drive recklessly because he can.

7:34 a.m. Swerve to avoid gigantic pothole. Instead run over slightly less gigantic pothole.

7:35 a.m. Avoid one more pothole before pulling into parking lot. Take off dirty white flip flops and put on pumps. Check to make sure there is no toothpaste on my face since I got ready in the dark and have yet to look in a mirror all morning. Grab laptop. Run inside.

And there you have it. A morning commute in Los Angeles. Actually I have it good compared to most, but anything more than a 15-minute commute in Los Angeles would kill me. Or someone else. I mean, did you notice all the cursing that was going on?