Marginally better but not by much. Talked to my nice doctor – a flu virus, she said. Okay, got that.
More battles locally with neighbours who are determined to make the job of burying the hideous power lines that run through our backyards – especially prominent, if I may delicately point this out, in MY backyard – as difficult as possible. The work was delayed again today by someone fussing about damaging the roots of the enormous tree in her yard and killing it, as if Bell is in the habit of carelessly slicing through the roots of vast trees as it buries lines. Oops! There goes another one. Oh well, no problem, there’s a tree over there, what do you need this one for?
I’m amazed the companies are putting up with all this hooha; it’s not costing us homeowners a cent, and this is the second time work has been delayed. But there they were, six very nice Bell and Rogers people standing around my yard, still trying to make plans.
Next week, on the third try, the work will go ahead. If no other frantic objections appear. Don’t hold your breath. Hell, as JP Sartre so wisely pointed out, is other people.
And then I went online to check the Ryerson website to try to figure out why the registration for my course is so low – it has not been this low for at least a decade. I entered Chang School spring 2016 to check the courses, scrolled down to “Writing” – and my course was not there. All the others were, but not mine. Eventually I saw why – my course is not listed with everyone else’s under W for writing, it’s under A for Autobiographical Writing. Why of course! If I were looking for a memoir writing course, naturally I would look under A.
Jesus. I had a few furious moments, and my lungs already hurt.
Nothing to be done, until it can be fixed next term. To be fair, if you access the site another way, all the writing courses are together under W – it’s just this particular way that separates my class. I’m paranoid, after decades of fighting for the inclusion of non-fiction and specifically memoir at the big writer kids’ table. There used to be a perception, and some still have it, that real writing is fiction and poetry; non-fiction is mere journalism and memoir is mewling self-indulgence. But the world has changed that, as memoir takes over the publishing industry. LObloodyL.
The class is very small, and it’s wonderful; I love them all already and we’ll have a great time. So moving right along, to the next freakout horror show which I can’t bear to think about – and this one means the end of the world.