The mouse between the cat�s paws.
2:19 p.m.
I was playing literati once not too long ago with a southern American who, upon finding out I was Canadian, began to say really terrible things about our having made the decision not to get militarily involved in Iraq. Luckily for me she exceeded her three-minute limit, and I was able to force a forfeit and boot her out of my room. I don�t need that kind of B.S. from anyone, thank you. I am normally a very mild-mannered sort of guy (� la Ghandi and Mother Teresa, you know) but I won�t stand for someone bashing my country and my democratically elected leader because he made a decision with which I happen to agree. Frankly, I don�t know the first thing about our new P.M., I just know that other people whose opinions I trust have made rather disparaging remarks about him, so I guess that colours any opinion I eventually develop.
In the meantime, the driving is very scary out there. I just got back from a trip to the temple of consumerism, Costco, as well as Bureau en Gros where I purchased more Zip disks. The removal of information from the hard disk is a slow and tedious process. I am bored to tears and taking my time. I am also afraid of making a mistake. I got to the continuing education office on the stroke of noon and was able to register for Patsy�s class, but the book store has not yet received the text for the course. I would like to start teaching tomorrow, but I�m still waiting for one student to get back to me. I have told everyone I know to tell this girl to call me, so if you see her, pass the message on, okay?
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