Snow

It's back, and I'm actually happy about it. My schedule for November looks great.

My luck is turning

I stopped for a post-call café con leche on Queen West. Not bad, but not Seville. Reaching the bottom of the cup, I felt something odd in my mouth, mixed in with the coffee grounds: a shard of glass. Great.

Returning to the car, I was greeted with a $30 parking ticket.

Smurf

Another 14-hour day, and I was walking home. My feet hurt, the tie around my neck a constant irritation. I was preoccupied, thinking about what it means to exist.

Two white guys stumbled out of a bar and into my path. They're in their early twenties, dressed as b-ballers, and drunk or high or both. "Can you spare some change?" one asked me. "Sorry, no." I tried to be nice.

"You FAKER! You and your... BLUE SHIRT!"

Seriously? Is this my life?

I walked into a street sign.

"HA HA! That's the funniest thing I've ever seen! Hey look! Look!" His friend was now vomiting into the flowers in front of Just Desserts.

"FAKER!" I heard in the distance, as I disappeared into the darkness.