I left the office at 9:30 p.m. last night and grabbed at bus to my parents' place afterwards. I was hungry, exhausted and wanted to see Pingu. What better place to go than Mom and Dad's?

I missed the bus twice this morning, not because I got up late or because the clock was slow. I missed the bus the first time because as I was getting dressed, I saw my beloved old pair of tattered jeans folded and stashed on a shelf. I was already pressed for time, but I thought I'd pull them on just for fun. Wait, you don't understand - these were my ultimate favorite pair of jeans; perfect cut, perfect denim, and simultaneously flattering and comfortable. I wore and wore and wore these jeans until the dark blue denim faded into a whiter shade of pale, and then I wore them anyway. They finally hit the point of no return last fall, the point where I could not leave the house with the jeans on with a proper excuse. Only the words 'moving day' or 'painting the walls' or 'garbage picking' could've justified my attire by then. Anyway, for some reason I was lured by these old jeans and slipped into them for the first time in months. I felt an unexpected burst of endearment and joy as I gazed at my legs in the full length mirror. I walked around my room and remembered what it felt like to be in the most perfect pair of pants in the world. I sat on my bed and admired the large hole in the knee, and the who-cares attitude I had when it first appeared. I marvelled at how they still fit perfectly, although the material has become so thin that the jeans hang slightly looser. If you're caught up in what I'm reading, you can imagine how quickly time went by until I snapped out of it, thought 'holy shit, what time is it?' and realized that I had about one minute to get out of the jeans, get dressed, get a quick lunch together and brush my teeth. Right. Suddenly my jean elation was sucked away like the air out of a sad-looking balloon: those perfect jean days are over, I can never wear these again in public (although I harboured a delightful realization that I would be moving some furniture from my parents' home to the Murray Street apartment this coming Sunday), and I was going to miss my damn bus. I grumbled, left the jeans on the bed and went downstairs to see Pingu, thinking she would surely cheer me up. But wait, I'm not done here. Remember, I missed the bus TWICE. So I threw on an unperfect pair of jeans, got my lunch together and everything else until it was time to grab the next bus. Coat on, little pink and green scarf that Nat gave me, out the door and key in the lock - until I stop and think, What am I forgetting here? I walked down the steps towards the street until the lightbulb - a very dim one today - went off. Pingu. I forgot Pingu in the backyard. So back up the stairs I went, key in the lock, running through the house to the back door, chasing after Pingu outside to coax her inside. Finally I ran back in through the house, slammed the front door, key in the lock - no, do NOT tell me that I hear the bus. I glanced up just in time to see the bus swinging around the corner past the bus stop. «Ah ben, tabarnac à deux étages!» Atleast I was able to resort to humour in the midst of my complete frustration. So I sat around in the living room, bag on my back, shoes on my feet, moping around until the next bus. And get this - I nearly missed it THREE TIMES. I think if that would've happened I would have marched back into my room, gotten back into bed and called it a day. But my day was saved by a construction worker - has anyone been able to put that sentence together before? - who was nice enough to flag the bus down with his hard hat and then run to the middle of the road to force the asshole bus driver to stop. Normally I would frown if a construction guy winked as I was climbing a bus, but I had to smile back and give a grateful thank you. That was about the most pleasant two seconds of my morning, right before the surly bus driver glared at me and said «Tasse toé, t'es dans mon chemin» as I fumbled to get a bus ticket.

Lesson learned today is to let go of the old and get on with the new - in other words, the damn jeans are dead, get into your new ones and get your ass to that bus stop already!