Editorial: Kingston Thanksgiving Pt. 2 – The Aftermath

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*Part 2 of a 2 part series*
I seem lost in the endless labyrinth of space and time. I am outside of any knowable dimensions and floating in the neverending darkness that no light could ever penetrate.
No I’m not high. I’m in Kingston for Thanksgiving.
Last week I outlined my anticipations for my first Kingston Thanksgiving, which essentially amounted to looking forward to walking around naked in my empty house. That didn’t come to fruition because another housemate of mine was also there over the break. And since we haven’t reached the point in our housemate relationship where we are comfortable with each other’s naked bodies 24/7, I kept myself clothed. It was kind of shitty.
One of my dire predictions that did come true was that my house would still not have heating. That was the truth until Sunday, when I left for the day to go to my Grandparents’ for thanksgiving supper, and I came back to find that the landlord had dropped by the turn our fucking 40 year old furnace on. I was pretty stoked, but there’s still a small worry in the back of my head that there will be a gas explosion at any moment. I cannot stress how sketchy this furnace is. Its like the one Macauly Culkin was afraid of in Home Alone, except it runs on invisible, highly explosive natural gas. Not fun.
Otherwise, it was really nothing like I expected. For one I spent more time on the internet than I thought I would. I have all this free time and I spent it online. Hours slipped away at the snap of the finger. Watching a single documentary about Stonehenge turned into hours on youtube watching Conan. Why? Fuck if I know. I  just know that one minute it was 1:30pm and the next it was 7pm and I had eaten a whole Little Ceasars medium pizza by myself. I was disgusted.
Sunday night, after returning from that brief Thanksgiving supper with my relatives, I felt ready to pass out. But my body just couldn’t break its routine of going to be super-late so I simply laid in my bed, wondering why I wasn’t falling asleep at 10:30pm. So I took some Gravol to help me pass out and oh boy did that shit work! How is that shit legal to buy? Like I guess it helps with stomach aches but it could put a cokehead to the floor within 10 minutes of ingestion. You could engineer it as biological warfare: put it in your enemy’s water supply and then they’d sleep through the invasion.
The dreams you have on Gravol are also pretty strange. I find they always end up being situations just like normal life except there’s just a minute detail that’s off (to be clear, yes I have taken Gravol multiple times just to sleep. Someone call Dr. Drew). Like I think I dreamed about brushing my teeth and going to class. That’s it! What the hell, subconscious? I know I don’t usually appreciate Freud’s analysis of you, because it can get kind of incest-y, but cut me a break and give me an interesting dream once and a while. Another dream I had was very vague, and it was essentially about walking around with a CIBC cheque for $1083 in my wallet – that exact amount and bank. I never cashed it, I just liked having the feeling of being surprised I have this extra money. Which I don’t have in real life. So I’m still poor.
And then I woke up and had to write this shitty editorial. You’re welcome, dickbags.

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