Chapter 297

I woke up at 9. I felt like sleeping longer but the girlfriend was already up and about, and I peeled my sore carcass out of bed.

She left to go study for her upcoming exam, and I listened to a lot of Chinese black metal, writing notes about each band and track. I really got absorbed by the task, maybe I should be a black metal radio host instead of a chemistry teacher. Too bad there’s exactly zero dollars to be made in that game.

My neck and shoulders were surprisingly pain free, after yesterday’s headbanging. I headed to the Church of Iron and had a push workout, alongside a bunch of middle-aged Chinese men. Then I drove to Metro, put on my useless fayssah mursk for the five-meter distance between the two sets of automatic doors, and bought all the goodies I need as well as a bunch of stuff I don’t but can afford, being an upper-middle-class doofus with plenty of disposable income.

For the first time in... forever, I didn’t choose the slowest moving checkout lane, in fact I was quick to move my cart to a cash register that just opened. The lady asked me if I want an upgraded membership. I declined. She went on a sales pitch in rapid-fire Chinese. I asked her to repeat. She went slower, and told me about all the benefits. For 199 yuan a year, I’ll get an 8% discount on all my purchases, and I’ll also get a complimentary crate of milk. Good deal, it seemed to me, so I scanned the code and derpedly entered my info. Then I scanned the code for the parking lot, and again took more time than reasonable. The lady behind me just wanted to buy a few items, and was now stuck behind an idiotic immigrant who took way too much time to accomplish simple tasks, I apologized to her and she laughed, seemingly unphased by the whole thing.

Then I went to the South African’s apartment complex to pick up the dog. He was all excited to see me, but also had a good time at his auntie’s, who always spoils him. On the way out, I was about to turn left and was waiting for the car coming down the street to pass me. It was a car from the driving school that took several months of my life, if you remember the early chapters of this diary. The car stopped, stalled, and the young girl behind the wheel had trouble restarting. After a few seconds, the car herky-jerkily inched forward, stalled again, and then eventually got in the groove. I don’t miss being in those cheap Volkswagens at all.

We went back home, dropped the groceries off, and then I hopped in the car again to go drop it at the repairs shop. One of our headlights is dead, and also we lost a hubcap, making our old beat up Nissan look even more like a broke college student’s vehicle. I rode my skateboard back.

I saw a middle-aged woman at the street corner, wearing a sweater with WASHINGTON PEDSKINS on it. It made me smile. Chinglish misprint or subtle commentary on the rampant use of steroids in the NFL?

For dinner, I made hamburgers and poutine. The proper cheese curds don’t exist outside of Quebec and Franco-Ontarie, but by ripping mozzarella in chunks (not cubes; irregular chunks), generously salting them to draw some moisture on their surface, leaving them in the fridge for a bit and rinsing them to make them less sickly salty, you can make an acceptable substitute. With fries from the oven, chunks of sausage, and gravy made from a St-Hubert powder bag, it’s a nice taste from home. The burgers were also scrumptious, with mozz cheese, a slice of ham, ketchup, relish, hot sauce, lettuce, tomato, pickles and sauerkraut. Hell yeah.