So far, Lady and Gigi's sweet faces and the imminent expansion of my family notwithstanding, being back has been a foot up the ass.
I got into Canada late, and then had to put up with fucking Customs because I was travelling on a British passport and somehow this confused them enough to send me to the immigration desks - I guess because of the thousands of British citizens illicitly streaming into Canada for the clandestine sex and drug trades. . . then I was carrying three bottles of hard liquor and three bottles of wine - well, one of VERY nice champagne Miss C sent my mum, and somehow they found this quantity humourous, as if I, as a normal non-Muslim person, wouldn't have bought more from duty-free if I'd been able to carry it in my weakened condition. AND they tried to make me pay taxes on it, but by this time I was so fucking pissed I just pushed through the 'nothing to declare' line when the guy got busy and went to meet my poor brother, who'd been waiting patiently at the aeroport for the couple of hours of lateness. I think he'd come to meet me because he had some news, which is that he's having another baby. So I was - and am still - pretty fucking happy about that.
But then when I tried to call Little G, who has my keys, she didn't pick up - when we got to the apartment no one was there. Finally Brother dropped me off at Lady's, who lives close by, and I got snaked with her and Gigi, and gave them thier presents, caught up, and felt sorry for myself. I had to sleep there - Little G called at midnight and said she'd forgotten yesterday was the 12th. She could AT LEAST have had the respect to make some medical excuse up. If my cat is looking malnourished, the shit and the fan will have a violent collision.
I woke up at 4 am fresh as a daisy, didn't want to wake the Lady or her roommate, and so just came to work. Fucking bitch mood on me now. FEB and I are having a complaining competition about how much we miss each other. At this rate I'll need to think of a better euphemism for him.
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