Last I was in LA, I accidentally left a leather skirt, whip, and sweater in my room. I hadn’t realized until a few days back in Austin. Calls were made. The goods were being held with the cleaning staff. I begged a new friend in LA to please, please, please– "Please, the husband is on it." Her husband was a sweetheart and offered to drive out of his way to help a redhead out. Only, oops, I hadn’t really mentioned where I was staying except in one very brief IM session, so they assumed I was staying at the hotel I normally frequented (The Intercontinental) on Avenue of The Stars, not at my roach motel (The Grafton) on Hollywood Blvd. So he was very patient with the staff at the Intercontinental, apologizing to me that they cannot find it. My bad. After all that, he was able to pick up the goods on Hollywood. And now they remain at their house.
friend: missing your skirt and top yet?
friend: i can mail them to you?
Stephanie Klein: nah
Stephanie Klein: need the closet space?
friend: haha no, i just remembered
Stephanie Klein: i can live without them
Stephanie Klein: if they were sweatpants, it would be a different story…
Stephanie Klein: the story of my life
They say there’s a reason for everything. When you find out your husband is cheating, they tell you it happened for a reason. When you miscarry, it happened for a reason. There’s something else in store for you. But what’s the reason, where’s the divine plan, behind the things we simply forget? I’ve thought about it at times when I’ve driven to the gas station to fill up, only to realize I left my wallet at home. What’s the reason there? That if I hadn’t gone, maybe I’d have gone later and been in a car accident? I don’t know that I buy it.
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