It’s been an interesting 72 hours full of essay writing, power outages, snow and extracurricular bus trips. Yes, winter is slowly digging its claws in on us.
Sunday night the power went out around 11:00 pm. I was heading to bed anyways, so it didn’t really matter, but I called my sister Michelle to see if their power was on. I tried their phone: no answer. So I tried Michelle’s cell phone. And I woke her up. Poor kid. She was clearly half asleep, trying to decipher what I was saying in her grogginess. Before I hung up, I told her that maybe she should turn her cell phone off if she doesn’t want people calling her at 11:30 at night. Goodness knows I don’t leave mine on.
According to my blinking alarm clock, the power was only out for an hour and a half. Not long at all. Before I went to bed, I went upstairs to look out the door and saw the snow. And I felt right at home. It was beautiful to see it gently falling on the street. I became nostalgic, but I certainly wasn’t yesterday morning.
I dressed for the cold and went to meet the bus, since I wasn’t going to be driving on the skating rink that was my street. I’ve hardly driven on snow and ice in the past 2 years – I’m not about to start now. The problem was I couldn’t get out my screen door. I was iced in. After a lot of pushing it shoving, it finally gave in and I trotted out to the bus stop. The next adventure was the drive to school. What should have been a 5 minute trip turned into a half hour. The bus skidded a couple of times and the cars around us only moved by inches. I don’t like buses to being with and swore I’d never ride another one again after having lived on them in Vancouver. But we finally made it to school, but hardly anyone else did, as my 8:30 class was quite empty.
On the way back from school, I took the wrong bus. I took the wrong bus in Saskatoon. I never got lost once in Vancouver, never, ever stepped on the wrong bus. My first bus experience in Saskatoon: I get lost. Well, I wasn’t really lost. I knew exactly where I was. I was downtown rather when I was supposed to be on the other side of the river. A slight problem. Luckily the bus crossed back over and I promptly got off, and walked 15 blocks in the wind and sleet. Not fun. When I take the bus next time, I won’t take the one that stops in front of Place Riell. Bad idea.
My best mistake, and costliest, though, occured on Friday and Saturday. I began writing my essay for my political studies class when on Saturday night, as I was falling asleep, I realized my essay had nothing to do with the very wide open issue of democracy. My essay was on American foreign policy. Oops. I quickly got out of bed, scratched a few ideas down as to how I might be able to salvage my essay, but in the morning I realized it was useless. Nine pages. Wasted. Well, not completely wasted. I’m taking an American foreign policy class next semester, so I’ll just save my essay until then. But I had to start all over again. My “real” political studies essay, as I called it, deal with the state of democracy in America since 9/11. I have no idea if it’s any good or not. I am terrified that I have lost the ability to write anything coherent along with the capacity to think critically.
And on that note, my handsome 8:30 professor is here and class is about to begin. Back to Canadian history…