The building going up across the street has been under construction for months, at least six, and it's finally getting to the point where its structure is comprehensible to a viewer unfamiliar with the plans. The architect is well known for his eccentric, whimsical designs, and this project looks like it sprang from the mind of Dr. Seuss, full of curves and irregular angles that I find appealing, even as the sensible part of me recoils at my own attraction to the kind of whimsy that only a great deal of money can buy.

When it's finished, the building will be sold off as condominiums, very expensive, because of course what this town needs is more high-priced housing within walking distance of the retail district, to ensure that restaurant workers and janitors can't move in and live where tourists can see them.

I was vaguely disheartened that the possibility of living in that building is so distinctly out of my reach, until I remembered a conversation I had with a colleague, a flighty, eerily upbeat woman named Fancy. Another condo project is going up a couple of blocks away, similarly priced--each unit will sell for $700,000 or more. One day, Fancy and I were casually looking at the plans, and I commented that it would be a great place to live, if only it weren't so expensive.

"Oh, I know?" she said, in that certain stilted Southern California accent I call "the quack," which is part Valley girl, part sorority girl, all irritating all the time. "But I was totally telling my friend who's like studying to be an aesthetician? She should totally get her mom to buy her one of the units? And then she can totally live there and make the first floor into a spa and run her business out of it? I told her she should _totally_ get her mom to buy her one."

It's so simple, I can't believe I didn't think of it myself. I am totally going to get my mom to buy me one of those condos. It's going to be amaaaaaaaaaazing.

Star of the day. . .Joan Crawford