The Living is Easy

This is the first summer since I moved to Toronto five years ago that I haven't been running off to the ends of the earth for most of it. And, while, the thought that my Russia-less summer will probably sink all chances of me ever getting a job in my field ("She's smart," the hiring committee will say, "but her Russian is rusty and liberally dosed with Czech.") makes me sad, I'm enjoying this summer immensely. Even with the smog and humidex advisories being constantly issued for Toronto.

Every day, I walk to campus (well, not today because of the double whammy presented to my lungs by smog and humidex advisories), sit in my carrel, work or bang my head on the wall to rattle around the thoughts in my head, pack up between five and six, head home, and then engage in sweet fuck all, which entails drinking beer or pink wine in the back while talking to Ptichka and a rotating cast of characters that features the landlord, our neighbors, D. and B., and the coworkers Ptichka can stand (they are few in number). I am missing the NHL at this point in time, however, because I no longer have an excuse to drink beer with the boys down the street, which is also a fun thing to do in the summer. Every few days, I water the garden and dead-head my pansies. And every day in the morning and the evening I obsessively check the garden's progress with Ptichka (Two more weeks until I'm eating homegrown argula!).

I've met one person from Nervousness. I'm probably going to meet a couple more. I'll get to hang with my brother-in-law and sister-in-law sans their kids (who are wonderful but change the dynamic of everything).

I'm enjoying myself far more than I have in any summer past (okay, the Czech Republic was a blast but it was stressful) because I don't have a gazillion obligations or the travel-funding spector hanging over my head.

The only things stressing me out are my diss (but that's nothing new) and Immigration Canada because I'm spending money left, right, and centre to prove that I'm a good citizen without a criminal record who has known her spouse for a good long time, even though she can't remember the exact date of their first meeting because she wasn't looking to date a woman and wasn't even that fond of Ptichka at first. Don't worry, the initial antipathy was mutual.

All I can say, is if this is what a 9-5 job is like, I'm all for it. I feel human again and less like a brain on a stick.


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