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the journal of Michael Werneburg

twenty-seven years and one million words

Toronto, 2011.01.18

Whenever I get the chance, these days, I tend to drowse. I blame the jetlag and the many things we've got on the to-do list.

But nothing jars you from dozing on a street car like someone hitting your window with a snowball. Wheee, once again a reminder that this is no longer Tokyo.

Happily, the meeting I was heading to was a success. We've landed an apartment. It has a fireplace. It's got room for a rambunctious boy. It's got updated floors and windows and counters and appliances. It even has a quirk: our thermostat controls the whole building (wacky!).

And in a big change of pace, it's actually the long-shot that became our neighbourhood. We're living in The Beaches.

rand()m quote

By all means, marry. If you get a good wife, you'll become happy; if you get a bad one, you'll become a philosopher.

—Socrates