I am writing this while sitting in the most marvelous little chair. It is covered in deep plum plush and looks like a modernized version of an easy chair. Tucked underneath is a little footrest on wheels, covered with a pad of the same plum fabric, while on either arm are separate pieces that can be adjusted. On the left is a little drink holder that swivels, and while perhaps deep enough to hold a mug or a paper cup of coffee, is not exactly the best place to stash a bottle of diet Pepsi. On the right is a little lap desk that can swivel in and out, to any position I desire. If only it would swivel down an inch or so I'd be so happy – once again I am confronted by a chair that was only ever met for taller people than I.

I'm sitting in this ridiculous little chair because I am down in Santa Monica again, this time for two meetings. Normally I would be camped out in the tiny little meeting room but it is lunchtime and there are two people eating lunch in there, and I didn't want to disturb them. So instead I will wait in this silly chair, in this little lounge area that looks as if no one ever uses it, looking out over an extremely sunny balcony that looks as if it hasn't been used in quite a while either. There is, however, a new gas grill out there, so I can only hope that future use is intended.

I flew down this morning and arrived a few hours before I was needed. But such is the problem with flying; you have to take what you can get, and the next latest flight would have had me here too late. So I got up at 5 in the morning and drove myself to the airport with plenty of time to deal with nonexistent parking problems and nonexistent security lines. I got to the Burbank airport and tracked down a taxi and then the taxi driver and I did our best to figure out just where the heck I was supposed to go. My description of "remember where that guy hit his gas instead of his brakes a few months ago and plowed through a whole bunch of people? The office is over there" wasn't as helpful as I'd expected.

It's a lovely day to be here, if I had to be anywhere today other than in cold and soggy Sacramento. I wandered the promenade during lunch and ambled slowly up and down the streets, enjoying unseasonably warm weather and perfectly blue skies. But now I am back here, in my little plum chair, waiting for the real reason I flew down here – two meetings, back to back, both of which promise to be very long, but both of which I have been rather curiously looking forward to since I first learned of their existence. They may both end up in lots more work for me in the long run, but this actually makes me quite happy. I may never shake that residual feeling which has been tiptoeing around in my head since I was laid off. It is far better to have too much to do than not enough; far better to be needed than to be told to pack up your things in a box and go home now because you are suddenly and without warning expendable.