2001-06-08 || 1:07 a.m.

A letter

Het kiddo,

Got your e-mail and your new phone number, but I just got home, it's 1.08 in the ay-em, and I'd hate to wake you just to ask how your day went. I'm a bit tipsy from a bottle of La Bolduc and another of Mary-Anne fruity beer which I had while waiting hours upon hours upon hours for the Santropol delivery man to come with the killer tomato and cheese that I shared with Olivia. I'm exhausted from watching Croutching Tiger Hidden Dragon with twelve other people on a 145" screen with surround sound and comfy couches (I guess it pays to work for a real company).

Exausted, too, from meeting monstre and her princess at this kick little teahouse that I must now show you one day. We almost got kicked out because Monstre and Princess find it impossible to sit still and the place adheres to a rigid code of quietude.

Aside from that, I guess my day was a bit of a gutter dog. I got up in a good mood, even though I knew with a certain doom-tinged certainty that it would be wrecked 30 minutes after entering the office. I went in, got called into a meeting, was given yet another unreasonable deadline (which I subsequently blew because I no longer give a damn), and sat at my desk to stare into inner space. Somehow, I've managed to get everything done for the big show in Ottawa, except for the biggest presentation, which they want completely re-done because a pointy-haired manager has changed his mind on the content.

The work was finished. I get paid anyway, though. Right?

They wanted me to do it over the week-end.

I absolutely *relished* the look on their faces when I told them I would be lawn curling in Hudson all week-end for a friend's birthday. I wish I could tell them over and over again, just to see the panic flicker on and off, on and off, on and off...

I feel the need to kick them in their complacency sometimes, just to remind them that I never signed my life over to them. Just my soul.

To-morrow, I will leave work, meet Sister to buy her Ex's birthday gift, and forget about my horrid life for two days. Saturday morning I will go to Hudson and play Lawn Curling, eat at the Willow Inn, and pretend to be happy while I yak with those whom I will manage in next year's show.

If I don't get to speak to you before you leave, have a good trip; I know you deserve it.

Oh: Send me a postcard if you can.

Luv,
cf188





||Gods save the Queen,
||cf

back || forth

older shite

One last little note... - 09.21.2006

de-stressing, biking and terrorism - 06.06.2006

Mildly stressed... - 05.29.2006

More crime stupidity - 05.28.2006

Scary stuff - 05.25.2006



diaryland.com
Oh yeah, the page and everything
on it is �2000 - 2005 to me, alright ?
don't copy without asking.

Original �reation 2005