i could become a canadiens fan

i'm enjoying quite the long-lasting daydream that the resident doctor in the er who examined me will come back into my life via the 4-6 week check-up. my legs will be waxed this time, and i'll be witty and funny, we'll flirt and i'll catch him hook, line & sinker when i leave the room telling him, 'well, you have my number...' and gliding off.

oh, to be so cool.

so i meet my soulmate in the er when i've herniated a disc in my back, and during the physical examination he had to stick his finger up my ass to make sure my bowels were still functioning. my legs are also very hairy. but we meet again, everything goes perfectly and we sail into the sunset, happy as can be.

don't think that's all; in the sequel we'll end up moving to montreal as he becomes a more and more successful surgeon. he's fluent in french from french-immersion school, and is as natural as a fish in water there. i'll adapt, i could write the canadian version of 'a year in the merde' recounting my experiences. wouldn't that be an elegant life -- the architectural glamour of europe, the hominess of canada, a happy and successful life. he dies when i'm 63, and i die at 84.

those 21 years could be my golden literary era. whether it's personal expressive achievement, notoriety, or simply remain using my voice to join with other storytellers and messengers, i can expect the end to be good. what a lovely life i've dreamt up here, falling in love with a doctor i spent less than 20 minutes of my life with. nevertheless, i think i could become a canadiens fan; i've always instinctively loved their retro-styled sweaters.