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!