You know, the distance from Meghan’s house to downtown Saint John, where all the clubs and bars and movies are, is 24 kilometres. That is twice the distance from my house in Verdun to the Biodome at Pie IX. And I drive there and back almost every night. People think I live far away from downtown Montreal in Verdun…. pssh.

You know, the distance from my house to Meghan’s house is 8.1 km. The distance from my house in Verdun to the downtown McGill campus is 7.9 km. Again, people think that’s far in Montreal. Sure, Meghan lives about as far away from me as you can and still be in the Kennebecasis Valley, but nobody really think’s it’s *that* far.

I was driving down that road, the other night. That long, windy, riverside, 5 km, Gondola Point Road, and I pass a computer monitor, lying in the middle of the oncoming lane. Well, I thought, that’s just an accident waiting to happen. So I pull a little U-ie, stop, get out of my car, and put the monitor on the sidewalk.

After another little U-ie, I’m driving happily along once again, and then, in my own lane this time, I see a big ugly lazy boy on the road. I could have understood the computer monitor – that might have just fallen off the back of a truck or something – but this was a big ugly chair, lying perfectly in the middle of the road, only a little ways after the monitor. And, since it’s spring cleaning season, everybody has big ugly chairs and tables and tires and kitchen sinks out lying by the side of the road. Somebody, I thought, probably put it there on purpose. Stupid jerks.

I get out of my car again, and this time, as I’m pulling the big ugly chair off to the side of the road, I think that maybe this is all a big stupid prank. Or maybe some kind of initiation, and there are people in the woods waiting to beat up the first person who stops to move the chair. I don’t really think that that might be the case, but it was kind of like when you’re unlocking your door and pretending that a serial killer is chasing you, so you have to do it as fast as you can, and the adrenaline is pumping and your hands aren’t cooperating and you know that if there really had been a serial killer you would be dead by now, but still you keep rushing to unlock the door until you finally get in and let out a big sigh of relief. Yeah, that’s what it felt like. So I rush back to get into the car, sigh a big sigh of relief, and drive happily away again.

Just when I thought my excitement for the night was over, I ran over a squirrel.

Ok, so it wasn’t so much of a squirrel as it was a dead squirrel. As in, already dead when I got there. But I still ran over it. Oh well.

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