Friday, Sept. 13, 2002
Dear Diary:

I am so severely directionally challenged that anyone who knows me hesitates to send me to a new place without either

a) a large bag of bread crumbs or an enormous ball of string so I can make a trail to follow back if necessary, or

b) taking me by the hand and actually dropping me off at my destination.

I took the early bus into Montreal this morning and found my way to the building where the daughter works. This is not as great a feat as it might first seem because it is one of the tallest buildings in downtown Montreal.

I think we can all agree it was very thoughtful of her to pick such a tall place.

We had lunch and she gave me a key to her apartment on a chain long enough that I could wear it around my neck, which I immediately did.

Yes, I am now officially The Oldest Latchkey Child On The Planet.

All that was left was for me to find the closest Metro (subway station), get off at Vendome and grab a bus to her place.

"There's one at Bonaventure," she said.

"Where's Bonaventure?" I asked. There was a pause while the daughter weighed the actual possibility of my finding the place against the time it would take her to physically take me there.

She took me there.

"I take the Cote Vertu line, right?" I asked. My daughter has lived in this apartment for two years now. You would think at this point I would have the situation covered because we aren't exactly talking rocket science here.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Cote Vertu."

I was heading down the stairs towards the Metro when I decided I'd better confirm the bus number.

"It's the 102, right?"

More eye rolling. "Muhhh-ummmm it's the 90."

Ooooops.

So I got on the Metro and fell into that weird sort of semi-doze you get after a nice lunch on a warm fall day and ...

I went a stop past Vendome, my exit for the bus.

Crap.

So I had to wander around in the station and find the platform that would take me back to Vendome.

I managed that and back to Vendome I went.

I found the 90 bus and actually got on the one going in the right direction! I was feeling mighty proud of myself as you can imagine.

So a few minutes ago the phone rang here. It was the daughter.

She was checking to make sure I'd actually made it to her place.

Oh well, the good thing about all of this is that I know I'm never going to have to worry about lapsing into a second childhood.

Why?

Well, heck, clearly I'm still working through my first one, eh.

--Marn

Old Drivel - New Drivel


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Want to delve into my sordid past?
She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 -


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This template is a riff on a design by the truly talented Quinn. Because I'm a html 'tard, I got alot of pity coding to modify it from Ms. Kittay, a woman who can make html roll over, beg, and bring her her slippers. The logo goodness comes from the God of Graphics, the Fuhrer of Fonts, the one, the only El Presidente. I smooch you all. The background image is part of a painting called Higher Calling by Carter Goodrich which graced the cover of the Aug. 3, 1998 issue of The New Yorker Magazine.

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2000, 2001, 2002 Marn. This is me, dagnabbit. You be you.