Hotel

In spite of the steady rain today, I noticed my neighbour (the one who moved into the house the Winnipeggers vacated and whom I haven�t yet met) was busy planting trees. All I managed was a grocery run to Costo and Provigo, with a stop in between to buy coffee, Tanzanian peaberry this time. The constant dampness has affected my state of mind, leaving me unaccountably blue and at loose ends. I feel like that Poulenc song, except that instead of wanting to smoke, I just want to sleep.*

Little Princess has started her job at the university working as a research assistant, which basically means feeding numbers into the computer, checking graphs, finding mistakes in calculations, and that kind of joe work. She�s enjoying it, if only because the prof she�s working for is absolutely brilliant, and that�s the field she wants to specialize in. She�s also making better than minimum wage and only has to work 35 hours a week. On the other hand, her boyfriend has just learned he has a job starting mid-June making moulds at a rubber factory earning minimum wage and working a 40-hour week, plus it is a half-hour drive away, which he will make with his neighbour who got him the job in the first place.

Fiddleheads are in season, by the way, and they�re delicious!

* Ma chambre a la forme d�une cage,
Le soleil passe son bras par la fen�tre.
Mais moi qui veux fumer pour faire des mirages
J�allume au feu du jour ma cigarette.
Je ne veux pas travailler - je veux fumer.

Guillaume Apollinaire (1880-1918)

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