If I had a dollar...

If I had a dollar for every time I find myself using this line in my own head, let alone for every time I said it outloud, I would be a wealthy woman. Non-taxable wealth. As my slut shirt became, yet again, a truth rather than a joke. I should have listened to my mother, Julia and myself. My fingers are remarkably cut up, and painful. That is unrelated.

I begin to think about packing, about laundry and technicalities. I begin to think about escaping, about a new life. About change and new opportunities, and the length of a year. Montreal. Old friends. Being a nomad. The weekend. Future weekends. As the countdown begins in earnest.

So I welcome it, the anticipation. My news ends here.