2004-03-01

I don’t care how much the world tries to crawl up my ass today: I persist in being cheerful as is my wont; if by “wont” you mean “occasional and seldom-repeated experiment.” I’m always cheerful on the first of March. Every year, the arrival of March makes me a little less insane. It will still snow, and it will still be illogically cold, but there is an end in sight.

And this weekend, spring actually seemed like a possibility. The temperature zoomed up to a whopping plus five, which in Canada translates to drinking beer on the patio and eating ice cream. Yes, I actually saw people doing both of those things – with their toques and scarves on, of course. This country never ceases to amuse me. I participated in the ad hoc festivities by venturing out without a proper jacket and buying a pot of hyacinths, because having flowers around reminds me that there is life stirring somewhere under the permafrost in this godforsaken arctic wasteland.

Seemed like everyone was in a jovial mood on Saturday: on my way home, I stopped at a corner store. After waiting in line, I approached the counter and asked the clerk if the store carried bus tickets. “No,” he said.

“Oh. OK.” I said, and turned to leave, whereupon the clerk broke into a puckish grin. “So…no bus tickets?” I repeated.

“Yes!” he said.

I thought it best to simplify the question. “Yes bus tickets?”

“Yes!” he said again, delighted with himself. Because he’d said that there were no bus tickets! When in fact there were! Oh, me. What delightful insouciance.

As a result of this witty banter, I ended up having to do a full-tilt sprint to catch my bus, hyacinths clutched under my arm like I was participating in some bizarre botanical relay; and boy was I glad I’d made the effort when I got the last seat in the back of the bus, right next to a motley gang of transients who were actively engaged in huffing solvents. Ah, spring!