september 13, 2000. Week 2 of class has begun. I now have a combined total of 15 class hours under my belt, and it's going to my head. Yesterday I lectured Fast Eddie on the suitability of certain History credits as teachables. I've gone mad with power... It was kind of a rough night. We went to bed at a reasonable time - for once I was the one finishing up on the computer and the Boy was the one who gave up & went to bed. I didn't get nearly enough done in the evening, even with my cadaverous social life. (Heh. In Toronto, the phrase "cadaverous social life" had quite a different meaning.) In particular, reading the Globe & Mail is taking me forever, even when I skip the boring bits. This, plus two lengthy phone calls home, ate up all my time. The news from home is reasonably good. My grandmother has asked my mother for more martini glasses so that my uncle could set up his bar. Blech. I have no inclination to indulge either my grandmother or uncle. It's his own fault that he's single again - the vague story from his ex-girlfriend is that she broke with him after he made some sort of horrid request - for the THIRD TIME. We went to Quebec City together 2 years ago, my mother, my "aunt" and myself, to see the Rodin exhibit. She is a fabulous woman and I deeply regret their break up. But some people don't know enough to come in out of the rain, and my uncle, with 2 wrecked marriages to his credit plus this latest episode, seems to be one of those people. Thus I have no sympathy with what I consider intrusive requests for my left-over wedding favours. But maybe it's my own fault for picking such nice gifts. Nah. My brother seems to be undergoing a fall depression of some sort. He's talking of moving to Winnipeg next summer to study a restaurant, take martial arts classes & drum in a band. They don't seem adequate reasons, at least to me. Then again, he never experienced the great social shock of university, and has been buried in the decay of highschool ties for years now. (Another cadaverous social life.) I'm sure he just wants a change; I have concerns about this way of changing. It seems very tenuous. Illustrating parable: we only have three teevee channels here; this makes Sunday night Simpsons a real event. I find my brother's wistful admiration of this set up revealing...I think he just wants to belong, to be part of something simple & true. I wish I could invite him over to hang out. (Sometimes I feel like the move was a dream and that Toronto is just down the road. I have a problem with spatial concepts, I think.) Anyhoo. I was talking about my rough night. The cat has developed this thing, this behavioral quirk: she'll loudly demand attention around 5 a.m., and the Boy will get up to feed her & pet her until she settles down. I feel like a selfish bitch for complaining about this, as it's not me who has to get out of a warm bed to deal with the cat...but I'm a pretty light sleeper and it bothers me. I regard every minute of night that I'm not sleeping through as an intrusion & resentment. Selfish. That's me. This used to happen at Froghopper Nook, and the Boy would tell me that he had no choice, that the stress of apartment life necessitated his concessions to what I felt were unreasonable demands from the cat. He tried the same line of logic this morning, but it won't hold - she's in a nice big restful place with lots of access to the outdoors. Therefore we have to settle our official policy on these nighttime incursions. I hate them and I hope that this isn't the price of co-habitation. Wow, what a commercial for maturity. I suck.