December 26, 1999.

Boxing Day in a completely empty office. The lights are on a timer. That means that I'm plunged into darkness every half-hour starting at 4 p.m. My shift ends at 6 p.m. There is nothing more unnerving than a 30 meter walk through a pitch dark, empty warren of offices. My nerves are strung to the screaming point already.

I had a dream about this last week. When I woke up, I was so scared, I couldn't get back to sleep.

Joy to the world.

Had a very nice Christmas, thank you. I can't remember the last time I was so pleased with my haul, not to paint it fine. Special presents: Edward Gorey engagement book; silver purse; days of the week underwear and a copy of "Music Sounds Better With You." For the Boy, I managed to secure platinum seats to the next Leafs-Habs game...yup, the oldest rivalry in the NHL, and I just might be there. There are a few people for whom I'll be willing to give up my seat, but...well, I'll just leave it at that for now.

From my grandparents, I received a $100 cheque to maintain my own bank account, "just in case." My grandmother, who got divorced in 1966, is a big believer in planning ahead. Her divorce was pretty horrific, though...there were no support systems for divorced women in those days, so first there was the financial shock of having to care for 6 kids on her own. Then there were the social ramifications. The scandal was so great in that time that she had to give up teaching Sunday school.

In that sense, I consider any advice about financial independence to be a sign of her concern. Likewise her dolorous question, repeated every time I see her: "So, are you sure you want to do this?"

(I suppose that in her opinion it's hardly worth getting hitched if I don't invite my uncle's ex-lover, but we'll see what we can crutch together.)