Random Gloats: 47, going on 35?
Yesterday's football was a soggy, ridiculous mess and some 30 or so kilometres (yes, 30!) outside of town. Well, technically within Ottawa's bloated city limits, but there were cows on the other side of the field's fence, and quite a few more along the way from town to the field.
Anyway, it was pissing drizzle when we got there and continued on doing so until about five minutes after the game ended. A game which, incidentally, put paid to Team Seven's fantasies of becoming a league powerhouse. After winning one game and drawing another last week, we were quite trounced this week, 7 or 8 to 2.
Ah well, it was fun nonetheless.
And in case you were wondering, no, I did not cycle 30 kilometres through the rain in order to play soccer. I managed to snag a ride with one of my team-mates.
I learned that Dana is 41 when he made a comment about something that ended with the words, "... but you're probably too young to remember that."
"I doubt that," I said, "I'm pretty sure I'm out team's senior member. How old are you?"
"41," he said, "And you?" 47, I told him, trying not to preen at my baby-faced good fortune. He laughed and said, "I thought you were around 35."
I told him I loved him and the conversation drifted on to less flattering topics.
In other news, it looks like Raven and I have found an apartment for August 1st. Nothing's been signed yet, but presuming we pass (what I hope will be) the fairly informal background check, we won't be checking into Vanier but will instead find ourself located ... right. Down. Town.
The apartment is a (very) small two bedroom, in an old two-story brick building, but one very much too my liking. We're on the top floor (of two), with a private entrance in front and a shared fire-escape to the back alley(!). Raven works about 3 blocks away and I will have only an extra three or four k added to my commute. And, on the days when weather forbids, the airport bus runs by about two blocks away.
I hope to hell I'm not jinxing things by writing about it before the papers are signed ...
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