2003-02-02
7:35 p.m.
oh honey it's sunday don't look to the driveway
Pining for pines? For the maples. For the rocks, for the lakes. Not Yellowknife this time, though sometimes. No. Please need me this summer, please. My ticket's booked, England in March. It's been years, too many years, and I will visit the biscuitsister and brotherinloveandlaw in their new home, see again the aunts and uncles, the grandmothers and grandfather, the cousins who will seem far too old. Corfe Castle, and London at 2 am, I am reaching out to you across weeks that I grit my teeth to enjoy. Ugh. There's a cold settling at the base of my throat, and a long, hellish week stretching before me again. I'm starting to recognize the correlation between my happiness and my free time - or rather my inexplicable misery and the lack of enough time to even sleep. Every second week. Still, public broadcasting. swooooon. Speaking Of Which, a certain Canadian celebrity - erstwhile on-camera colleague of my famousboss - hangs out at our neighbourhood, members-only dive. It's enough to make me start smoking. leave your bike on the porch
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