I have spent the past three days in the fetal position in the corner of my room, suffering from some sort of stress disorder stemming from trying to drive a stick in LA. Even thinking about it now makes me hypervenilate--in two days, I stalled 6 times, almost rolled back into a Ferrari, ran four red lights, and inadvertantly caused one fenderbender.

Stupid car is now parked on the street. Everytime we drive by it, I hold my breath, expecting it to have somehow dislodged and rolled down the hill into a BMW or similar. I am a horrible driver. I think this means I have to move, which is unfortunate, because I am starting to like LA.