Thoughts on returning to E-town
So, as I drove in my rented Toyota Yaris towards the little basement cell I call home here in Wild Rose Country, I had various thoughts, which can be broken down as follows:
1. "Oh, prairies. Eight more months of flat!" (Edmonton International is about 30 km from downtown and so you get some prime grassland viewin' on the way in).
2. "Wow, the architecture isn't any better than I remember it."
3. "There's the raw sewage smell that really makes the City of Champions feel like home."
4. "Huh, the area of town I live in is a bit dodgy after all." (I don't often get to see the boarded up butcher shops and still open peep shows-cum-adult supercenters that line the streets near my house).
5. "This apartment is smaller and much darker than I recalled." (this was momentary only).
And running through out all of these was the constant refrain: Eight More Months! Eight More Months!
I think I'll make it.
1 comments:
Oh boy, the inaugural comment: what to say, what to say? I enjoyed your entries, Dai. Clever. Funny. Well written. What's not to love? (Well, I suppose I could have done without the "peep show-cum-adult entertainment center" pun (emphasis mine). (Or was it even a pun? Are you so perverse as to be subconsciously perverse?) Of course, it could be worse. At least you're not using "ejaculate" as a verb in dialogue attribution, as our illustrious 19th-century forbears too often did: "'Oh don't be ridiculous!' Eliza ejaculated.") Enough sex talk, though. Honestly. We of the covenant should know better.
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