Day Two in the QEII

I'm in the library for the second day in a row. Why is it that I get work done here that I don't do at home? I'm not sure why, considering the only thing I'm missing here is the TV and the cats. I don't mind working here, they've got these nice long tables with great views over the courtyard, and I can plug in my laptop, connect throught the university wireless, and still do the daily stuff. The only down side to working here is I to take the bus, because I can't find a parking space at the University, and I'm not at home to play with the cats, so they are both waiting by the door when I get home. I've had the sneaking suspicion for the last couple of weeks, that Rupert has taken to sleeping on the stairs when I go out in the evenings. If I come in late at night, he is sitting on the stairs blinking his eyes like he just woke up.

I'm finally on the downward slope of my life at University, and feeling pretty upbeat about leaving Newfoundland. Let me get through the next couple of weeks and I will be good. I'll miss the good local music at Fat Cats, that cute little bar Trinity (which was packed on St. Patrick's Day) and that great view of the ocean from the top of Signal Hill. I drove up to Pouch Cove last weekend (just felt the need to get out of the city), and I'd like to drive over to Carbonear way and see the other side of the bay. Maybe I'll do that when C visits.

Speaking of C, she is the only person whom I've told about the TFP, that has bothered to go and sign up for it. Now that she has, she seems to be getting quite addicted to it. I spent about an hour on the phone with her last night, teaching her how to link photos, and how to get Chatzilla set up so she can chat with the rest of the crowd in the TFP channel.

I'm looking forward to getting settled down in Kingston finally once and for all. I've been perusing the housing market and have found a great little brick house in the city, that is in the right price range. It looks like it might be in the middle of the ghetto, but what the hell? The appeal of having a permanent address and finally my own place (where the landlord doesn't care if I poke holes in the walls [not that I have done here or anything]), so I can stop changing my addresses in my magazine subscriptions.