There's a handful of stresses that have been missing during my hiatus from Montreal.
People, being the primary.
I haven't been playing popularity games here...
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In two days I leave for Montreal and I lied to the city at large that I was only arriving Monday, just to get a day or two alone with David and his girls.
The annual party's the Friday after, the 16th.
Everyone's welcome.
After all, there are certain things that a monstre is famous for, and the annual mid-November decadence is part of that.
The resounding hurrahs to the annoucement that a mere ocean could never interfere with the magickal workings of the yearly f�te that humbles hallowe'en, were heartwarming.
The hundred or so guilt-trips afterwards, were not.
"What do you mean, you'll be in town for a week and you can't dedicate an entire evening to fixing my harddrive problems?!?"
Or worse. How do I turn down Hansy's offer of tickets to Verdi's "Nabucco" as a birthday gift?
"I'm sorry Hansy... I don't have time for your six-foot-seven-inch tall darling ass, no matter how kind a heart beats behind it."
Especially since that night I already had plans with my boys, and apparently with David...
Oh David. I haven't seen you in three months and Monday you've got Operatic Society and Tuesday you've got band and if it was softball season and you had practice on Thursday, would my one week on the continent be reason enough to skip it? I admire your dedication, but when it gets this cold in the office, sometimes I wish it was me you were clinging to.
Granted, I'm busy mondaytuesday too.
All my evenings are gone already, my mother screaming nightly obscenities that I haven't reserved the week enti�re for her.
Princess? I hope you've saved me some days... Because the nights are gone in a haze of stomach knots and panic.
Oh, and I searched and searched but couldn't find you a gargoyle. :(
I am disappointing everyone again.
At least in Paris, I am less of a disappointment.