2004-08-02 - 6:19 p.m.
It's amazing to me how natural it feels to be on holiday and not go into work. It probably wouldn't last - I spent sometime unemployed after university and I ended up feeling aimless and agitated and blah - but this week has not lasted nearly long enough, and the prospect of returning to work tomorrow fills me with no small amount of dread.
I just hope that the four new staff have settled in a bit, that no one else has walked out, and that workguy has sustained no further hobby-induceed injuries - just before I left he added a broken finger to the frost-bitten feet and wrecked shoulder that his hiking and biking habits have earned him over the past year or so.
In fact while I was away I dreamt that I was walking on an ice-berg with my family when workguy appeared, promptly fell down, and injured his foot. The rest of the dream was spent hunting for special yarn so that he could knit a magical transparent blue sock that would heal his injuries.
Trips to the maritimes always make me wonder about race memory. My family is largely english and irish, and I always find the kind of rocky, heath-like landscapes that you find throughout the maritimes incredibly beautiful, far more so than the west coast which is probably in most people's eyes much more spectacular. Plus I fear that if I lived in Newfoundlad the question of my sexuality would be more complicated, as I find the short, bony, pale, vaguely irish-looking men there oddly attractive. Maybe it's just the accent...
Ha. I just re-read that previous paragraph and realised that I wrote "newfoundlad" rather than "newfoundlaNd", which given the subject matter seems amusingly freudian.
