november 9, 2001. This was a good morning (she writes, having already slid into afternoon without noticing). I had intended to get up & go to work at the usual time, but I just couldn't get out of bed...and since I only owe the Man 6 more hours of labour this week, I thought it might be best just to relax & go with it. And as the Boy didn't have anywhere in particular to go this morning either, we snoozed quite happily until quarter to nine. I'm always pleasantly surprised at the miraculous beneficial effects of an extra hour of sleep in the right place. Last night was pretty indolent as well. I spazzed out a couple of times when the worry & weariness got too much for the moment, but these outbursts were not too serious & were smoothed over shortly. (I'm still working on the whole "being calm in times of trouble" thing.) Choir practice went extremely well; I think I'm getting a voice back and if it's not a Broadway showstopper, at least it's mine. Afterwards we (and by we I mean the choir & the Boy) made a brief stopover in the Tim Hortons, which was a little rough without 2 nickels to rub together. It's hard to smell cheap baked goods without the power to get one; it's extremely psychologically gruelling to know that Tom Horton's is out of your budget. Not to make a big deal out of it or anything - those scars wont be very deep. I'm just, you know, saying. We shared one of the plastic pod tables with little Caro, who told us all about a variety of thing after the beautifully spacey fashion of a 6-year-old. She was drinking a hot chocolate, and sitting next to her was one of the more interesting threshold experiences I've ever had (you archaeologists in the crowd will know what I'm talking about there.) Being in a place full of sugarsmell made me itchy & restless; the opposite isometric pull was our financial situation, which also made me itchy & restless. I really wanted to ask Caro for a sip of her drink, but I knew that there was a power relationship here that I absolutely could not exploit. This is the threshold experience I was talking about. Suddenly I knew that I had to act like an adult & not take treats from a youngster. It was weird & the restraint felt funny, but I hope that it'll get better with time. As I often say to the Boy, when we have a child, we can't be babies anymore. Kinda scary thought. Of course, we don't have a baby now, which meant that we could ignore the dishes for another day & watch "Shrek" until bedtime. Thoughts: A boy's movie but kinda fun. I got to feel all smartypants because I could see the ending coming as soon as the princess explained the nature of her curse. I don't know why the adult version always turns the princess beautiful (see: some Arthurian legend with a name I misremember at the moment) but the kid's version must, must have an ogre princess. Maybe that's because most kids feel like ogres at least for some of the time: ugly, clumsy, rude & fearsome. Judged on their looks & dismissed as superfluous. Hmm. Also, I missed Leonard Cohen terribly during the "Halleluiah" scene, a song that always makes me cry. this time 2 years ago: good thing i like filling out forms