After a stressful work weekend, I had one of those day offs that aren’t really a day off today – Tuesday and Wednesday are officially my days off, but sometimes I’ll fill the hours with work. Meaning that I mostly pick at a paper until I’m 2,000 words deep into editing and spend the rest of the time letting the Internet infuriate me. Even that took a backseat, though, since I spent a chunk of today writing a letter to Samantha. I’m trying to prioritize that kind of thing.
It hasn’t been an easy summer for the two of us. The transition from Ottawa to Toronto was a lot more stressful than either of us foresaw. Things are stabilizing now, and we’re feeling more comfortable these days. I’ve moved a lot of times. It can be a mind-blasting process, especially when you’re in it with a partner. Samantha’s done a lot to keep me sane over the last little while. My friends have helped immeasurably, too. It’s terrific to have people around to talk out feelings of isolation or worry.
Justin called me up today with a bit of news I’m not sure I should divulge yet. Samantha and I are going to Peterborough this weekend. We’ll be checking out Justin’s new reading series and shooting the literary shit. Probably finalizing some plans. Some things in the hopper. How big those things prove to be remains to be seen.
I met up with Ren tonight at Hair of the Dog, officially instituted (by me) as the best pub in the neighbourhood. We hadn’t talked one-on-one in a while. He’s well on his way to becoming a dad. I asked him what that felt like. We talked about our relationships, our thoughts on the city, our plans for the future. And Gord Downie, and the Canadian identity, and technology’s effect on generations not yet named. The usual. I’ve had conversations on patios with Ren for going on 15 years, and they’re always fulfilling.
I just polished off a prosciutto and grilled cheese sandwich. My second of the night. So I’m fulfilled two or three times over. Time to finish my lemon tea and head to bed.