Friday, September 02, 2005

Mischief Managed.

I’m back in Hamilton. Mike and I drove to Ottawa yesterday, after cramming my stuff into a rented minivan. The van had to be back to the dealer at noon today, so instead of getting up at crowpiss and driving back this morning through Toronto traffic, we decided to drive back last night. That’s right – Ottawa and back in one day. It was a good choice, in the end. The only others on the road were convoys of truckers, so it was smooth sailing at 120km/h for almost the whole thing. Mike was pretty cranked on coffee, and I was nauseated with fatigue, but we got back here at about 2am. I passed out so quickly, I don’t even remember hitting his futon.

While I was in Ottawa, I saw my sister and her husband, and we all went out for supper. My sister’s awesome and funny. Ginny Weasley-esque, sans red hair. Almost all my guy friends always had crushes on her when we were in high school. (Typical of my luck.) It’ll be cool to hang out with her more this autumn.

The night before, I had to do a little cloak-and-dagger. Jeremy was my accomplice. Backstory: The previous place I was living was a cellar apartment under a house close to school. My landlord was terrible. He told me that he would furnish the place, and when I arrived to find it empty, he said, “Uh, yeah, I think I can get a tallboy in here.” So, he dragged a chest of drawers down and that’s all he gave me. Anyhow, it went downhill from there as this behaviour was indicative of what a knob he was. When I moved out, after some coercion, I packed the tallboy with my furniture, and I’ve been using it for 16 months. Every time I look at this dresser, I think, “I stole that.” While the thrill of “stickin’ it to the man” remained, my guilt never waned.

On Wednesday, Jeremy and I waited until dusk and drove up to Manny’s house. We stealthfully placed the dresser and its four drawers in his driveway next to his beat-up truck and booted it back to the “sporty get-away vehicle” (a geezly big SUV/minivan spawn). So, now my conscious is a little clearer. I am no longer harbouring stolen goods, and even though my ex-landlord might not deserve to have that dresser back, order has been restored in my mind.

I’m now a displaced person. I don’t want to spend the whole time here at Mike’s, because I don’t want to get up his nose/be a third wheel, but moving all my crap to a new locale will be a big dirty ordeal. My bus pass expired at the end of August, so it’s even difficult for me to get away from here.

My second reader has not yet returned my draft to me. She’s had it for 9 days now. I want to get it back so I can start preparing my final draft, but at the same time, I really want to not do anything this weekend. The sooner I get this revised, though, the sooner I can defend and start the next phase of my life. This makes me sad, because there are some things (mostly people) I don’t want to leave in Hamilton, but this move is for the best. I have to do this: something new on my own.

So, now I’m drunk on sleepiness, bored and a little lonely. I think the cure-all elixir is going to be a power-nap.

2 comments:

Laura said...

That, or use the chocolate cure! You have to hand it to J.K. Rowling, having Lupin present Harry with a bar of that precious stuff after his encounter with the Dementors. It really does makes things better...

Lynda said...

Hehe, mischief managed. I love it.