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Ever feel like you’re being judged?

I just got back from the grocery store. Now, see, I know that I was allowed to buy the 2 litre tub of ice cream because it was on sale, but other people in line at the register might not realise that. The fact that I didn’t have any fruits or vegetables at all didn’t help.

A little worse, though, was that the person in front of me was the kind of person who just looked like a vegan. That’s right. I have vegan-dar. Really what gave it away was—and this is the important bit—I didn’t like the way she was looking at the six litres of milk I was buying. I half expected her to say something about puss or growth hormones.

But none of that tops this afternoon.

For the longest time I never understood Dagwood Bumstead‘s penchant for sleeping on the couch, but I realise now that it’s because I never really had a comfortable couch to do it on. No longer so deprived, in the last few days especially I’ve become a bit of a Dagwood myself. This afternoon, wandering slowly back into consciousness from a little half hour nap (I had just finished reading Winnie-the-Pooh, so it was well deserved) I found myself gazing directly into the windows McGill Music Library. It occurred to me that if I could look in at them from my position on my couch by the window, anybody in the Music Library could…

Well, anyway, that’s when I decided to get up.

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