August 1-September 11, 2001 — The month and week that weren't

Editor's note: This journal was written on September 26, 2001, considerably after the fact. Not everything is here. Some of it may not be true, but it feels true from memory. This was the least-documented span of 40-odd days since I started antigreg.

After KrazyFest, I spent almost all of the rest of the summer in the office. I would work 50-hour weeks and spend days on end sleeping under my desk and barely leaving the building. At the end of it all, my main project was more or less canceled. We'll leave it at that.

There are parts of August that I don't think I'm going to mention at all. After fifteen months of not having anything important happen to me without telling the world about it, I think I kind of needed a month to myself. And this was it.

Some things did happen that I think I should bring you up to speed on, though.

Breaking edge for Lyme disease

Upon returning from Kentucky, I found a tick on me. (For your sake, I'll leave its location to your imagination. It's probably as bad as you think, though.) I went to a clinic near my work. The doctor told me that the risks weren't that high, but he put me on antibiotics anyway. He also gave me a blood test.

He was a nice doctor, although he was a bit more gung-ho about throwing in some blood tests for STDs while I was at it than I would've liked. (Greg: "No, I don't think that's an issue, really." Doctor: "You're sure? You're going to be there anyway. I mean, if you say it's not an issue, than it's not an issue, I guess...")

The antibiotics made me feel a bit strange, and never in a good way. My personality seemed a little off the entire time that I was taking them. I'm glad that I'm done.

I've since had my blood test and no one called me saying that I had Lyme disease, so it looks like I dodged the bullet. If we go to KrazyFest next year, under no circumstances will I be spending the weekend in a tent. Unless everyone else refuses to go to a hotel, in which case I'll probably cave. But for now I can take a stand.

An end to stadium rock

Johnston and I went to see Radiohead in Toronto early in August. 25 000 people were at the show. Kid Koala did an incredible job opening the concert, and Radiohead played a fantastic set. But the crowd. Oh, the crowd. (Someone brought a sign that read, "Mullets suck." He seemed very proud of it and kept holding it up. That pretty much sums things up.) I don't think I'm going to be able to deal with many more shows like that...

Seeing the Weakerthans the next night in Guelph was bliss by comparison. I wish I'd bought a t-shirt.

On the drive home, I tried to stay awake to talk to Johnston to make sure that he wouldn't fall asleep, but he'd had far more sleep than I had, and I kept hallucinating or outright nodding off. We arrived alive, no thanks to me.

Tips for living life under a desk

After that weekend in Toronto, I was under the impression that I wouldn't be moving to Toronto, and I'd begun working as fast as I could to finish all of my work so that I could begin the life of someone in Richmond with nothing better to do. This meant staying the night at work sometimes to ensure that I got everything done. Some tips:

1. Rolling up your sleeping bag in the morning is a waste of time. Just throw it in a heap in the far corner of your cubicle under your desk and no one will notice.
2. Set an alarm for 6:15 am at the latest. Co-workers will begin to arrive as early as 6:30 am, and it's nice to be able to have a shower before then. (The worst was having someone arrive at 5:45 am. She turned on the lights and I was jolted awake. I'm lucky I didn't start muttering to myself, since she sat in the cubicle facing mine [but with a wall dividing us], and she'd've definitely been able to hear me.)
3. Wear as much clothing as possible. Those carpets are chemically treated. Too much contact with my skin and I'd be itchy all day...

I also found that buying comic books in an attempt to maintain my sanity was a nice touch, but that's mostly optional.

A change of plans

Late in August, Johnston called and told me that I had a place to live in Toronto if I wanted it. I visited that weekend, paid my first month's rent, and, after finishing up everything in Ottawa (which took until September 9), I joined my belongings (which I'd moved out of Richmond the previous weekend) in Toronto.

I've been here ever since.

I was going to start writing journals again on September 11, but the world felt a bit too much like it was coming to an end. So I waited until September 12. I'm almost back on track.

But the rest I'm keeping to myself.