"Oh Missy You're So Fine! You're So Fine You Blow My Mind!"

           

            I got up at around 5:00 on Tuesday, and after yoga I began to memorize the publication dates of the books we studied in Children’s Literature. It didn’t take long but I thought I’d leave it for just before the exam. It’s certainly the least important part of the Final but some marks would be lost if I got it wrong. There wasn’t time to do much else, since this was a 9:00 o’clock test. On the way to McCaul and Dundas I ran through some ideas in my head as to how I might compose my essays. That’s something I could have done over the last couple of weeks but I spent the time reading the related books and making notes.

            We started a bit later than scheduled. As is often the case, there were three different courses taking their exam in the same room, one of which requiring the examinees to use a calculator. The TA that seemed to be in charge was a young British woman with long blonde hair under a floppy black woollen cap and she was wearing a white sweater with black stars. Some of the TAs that officiate over exams take on an uptight cop-like manner, but she was fairly nice.

            I sat down at the front, as I like to do, but Professor Baker came and told me that I had to sit at a desk that had an exam on it. I looked around for where to go and then she added, “Unless you prefer to sit at the front”. I told her I really did and so she was sweet enough to bring me an exam so I could sit at the desk I’d chosen.

            It was a three-hour exam and I always feel when I start to write that I am flying by the seat of my pants. Once I’d started though, all I could do was keep writing and hope that there was something in there that merited marks.

            When it was over we got back our term essays. The professor told me that she’d read my mid-term essay and that she’d send me an email later in the afternoon. That probably meant she wasn’t going to up my mark, though I didn’t really think about that at the time.

I left feeling a little down because even though I thought I did some good writing, I didn’t think it held up as an essay. Of course, the criteria is more slack for an in-class essay, but still, I wasn’t sure if I’d lived up to their standard to get a good mark. Of course I passed, but I wanted more than that; I wanted to be excellent.

I rode down to St Lawrence Market to pick up a few things from the bulk store. I went to Placewares on the main floor, but it’s always so crowded the place wears on my nerves. There’s really no room to stop and look at items without being in someone’s way. I was interested in a French press but one woman lingered around them with a staff member for several minutes chatting about them and then once she was gone someone else came along, so I just left.

On the way up University there was an elderly homeless man sitting on a grate with his left pant leg rolled up to reveal a pink skeleton.

I went to the Faculty of Information library to turn in a back and then the OISE library to take back two more. In front of OISE a guy was lying on his left side, sleeping, with his hand still holding his Tim Horton’s cup.

I went to Canada Computers at Spadina and College to buy an external DVD burner. I asked the salesperson what the difference is between external and internal DVD burners and he said the internal is faster. I told him I have time. He said that sometimes they have them on sale for $20.00, but not this time, so I paid $40.00.

I rode to Bathurst and Bloor to make an appointment with my doctor because my right hand hadn’t gotten any better since my bike accident two weeks before and I was starting to wonder if it should be in a cast. Unfortunately for my hand, my doctor turned out to be on holiday until January 11^th.

Since I was in the neighbourhood, I infiltrated the Death Store that most people call Honest Ed’s. I looked all round for a French press but couldn’t find one. I asked a staff member and she didn’t even know what a French press was. They had some kind of espresso maker and something that looks like a French press that was a milk frother, but I left the Death Store empty handed.

I stopped at Freshco to pick up some of the things one can’t get at the food bank, on the way back to Parkdale. I bypassed my building and went to the post office in the back of Guardian Drugs to buy folding box for mailing a few things to my daughter. After that, since I was right across the street from the Salvation Army thrift store, it suddenly occurred to me to look for a French Press there. There was only one, but it was a nice one, and only $6.00. I looked at some shirts, but they only had one fairly nice black shirt in “extra large”. I eschewed waiting for a dressing room, stripped to my undershirt in the open and tried it on. The sleeves only went to my wrists. I guess the slaves that Calvin Klein employs have an entirely different concept in their country of what “extra large” means. While I was standing in line to make my purchase, the elderly woman in front of me asked if that was all I had. I told her it was and so she said I could go in front of her. There wasn’t that much in her basket but she explained that she had another full basket waiting for her behind the counter. She shared the observation that people are particularly nice during the Christmas season and wondered who people aren’t that way all year round. I suggested that it would be a lot of work to be nice all year round, and she agreed.

I took my purchases and my bike home and then I went back out and two doors east to the new walk-in clinic that opened up a few months ago. There was one person in the waiting room and three Sikhs behind the reception desk, one young woman and two young men. I had never noticed before that Sikh women also have headwear that goes along with their faith. This woman in her twenties wore a turban as well but hers was not piled high like those of her male colleagues, but rather followed the contours of her head. She also had her nails done alternately in black and white with a textured lacquer that made them look stuccoed, which I think was just her individual style rather than a religious requirement. Everyone was very nice and I didn’t have to wait long to see the doctor, who was a young white guy not much older than my daughter. I told him that the injury was the result of a bike accident and I held out my hand for him to probe, but unlike my doctor, he didn’t even touch my hand to see where the pain is. He just said that it didn’t matter how much he looked at it because the conclusion no matter what would be that I needed an x-ray. While he was filling out the form, he asked me if I cycle a lot and I told him that I do it all year round. I mentioned that it’s very convenient to be a cyclist and to have Bike Pirates so nearby. He said he’d never been there but asked if it would be a good place for him to learn how to fix his own bike. I said that some volunteers are better than others but that I know a lot more now as a result of going there than I did before. He said, “Any volunteer would know more than I do!” and he gave me my x-ray referral. The nice young lady at the reception desk stamped it and all three gave me a friendly goodbye as I left.

I headed straightaway down to the Roncesvalles X-Ray Clinic and didn’t have to wait long before a very businesslike technician snapped my bones, so to speak. I was told though that the doctor at Health Care Plus wouldn’t have the results until after Christmas.

I watched the first episode of the latest season of Doctor Who. Since it’s new, I won’t give anything away, other than to say that it’s one of the best season premiers I’ve ever seen. Steve Moffat’s story is very well written and the dialogue is intelligent and witty. And it’s got Missy! She is so delightfully over the top and charmingly evil as The Mistress that if she regenerates, I don’t think that fans will accept the character as The Master ever again.

Professor Baker emailed me to tell me that she agrees with the mark my TA gave me on my mid-term essay. She also told me though that I had “some nice moments” in my exam. That’s the first time I’ve ever gotten feedback other than a grade on my exam writing. I asked her if she would also reassess my term paper. I wonder if it’s the last thing she wanted to hear as she started marking exams.

I tried out my new second hand French press. It’s so nice to have a good cup of coffee again after spending months fiddling with a funnel, a filter, a wooden spoon and a container. It even froths a bit!