Trash wanders through Cabbagetown. The city does pick up large trash if you call them and ask specific direct questions. And if you put a bag of plastic hangers outside your door, it will dissapear within minutes. However, for every item you put to the curb to magically make dissapear, an equal mass of cigarette wrappers will wind up inside your front hall vestibule, making a vaguely cute a tornado swirl every time you open your door.

I am in a mortal war with food packets. On my trip down to Miami last year, I nearly doused myself and Sharkboy with Marinara sauce for my Air Canada sandwich. If we were sitting in regular seats and not the emergency leg room row, we would have covered our nice “travellin’ duds” in red sauce. Last night the enemy attacked again, spraying vinegar all over my backpack instead of my fries. At least I smelled clean all during improv class.

My company hates me. 2 days ago I found a pre-print draft of our consumer newsletter with the following amendment from a contest we were running: “Sorry! Our web designer forgot to put one of our packages in this contest on our site… (bla bla bla)” Of course, I had nothing to do with this and wasn’t presented any web amendments regarding upcoming contests. I brought this up with my boss and he promised to change it. He joked that they were going to put this as the main story, front page. “Great! OUR WEBMASTER SUCKS! in war-time font!” I said, sarcastically. His phone rang and that was that.

My coworker likes me. Today my print layout coworker taps me on the shoulder and shows me the offensive retraction showing our clients how much of a forgetful jerk I am. “Nothing like the blame game, eh? Did you know about this?” she asks. I said I knew of it but wasn’t responsible for the upload error. I didn’t mention that our boss was going to change it. She turns to her keyboard and removes “our web designer” and places “We” instead. “That’s horrid.” she says. She went right over someone’s head doing that. And I thank her.