may 9, 2000.

Meh. I'm exhausted. I'd like to think that the weekend wore me out, but the truth is that I was dog-tired from the moment I stepped out the door on Saturday morning. I suppose it's just the yearly energy dip - after exams I always feel washed out & bootless. Unfortunately, I still have a hell of a lot on my plate, but now I'm only doing the work of 1 1/2 women instead of two or three. Huzzah!

Listening to the Lost Highway Soundtrack, buried as I am in corporate North America. "The Perfect Drug" deserves better than sedate office-friendly volume, so I've cranked it a bit. Not one of his best songs, but it reminds me of seeing Ian last week. He called me last night, just searched for my last name on Canada 411 and started phoning down the list. Impress, me. Apparently he enjoyed our little Queen Street ramble as much as I did, which is gratifying. We talked of Blake's angels, Dav's paradoxes of time travel and the desire to see one another soon. I was a bit subdued: I got the call whilst watching this week's Futurama episode with my mom, and I was a bit too lazy to change phones, so I tried to keep the conversation quiet & un-squealy. Sometimes effort pays off.

"Wingus. Dingus."
- the best line in the episode (it's all about delivery, babe)

Julie Gloom has resigned. I'm bummed out...I knew about the job for the last two weeks, but I was ignobly rooting for a last-minute disaster that would keep her safely here. I don't know what I'm going to do for amusement in July & August. I mean, most office environments are lukewarm places in which to exist. There's friendliness, but no connection, nothing you really want to think about at home. To begin enjoying myself so thoroughly here...and then to have it taken away...I almost want to throw a tantrum.