The trees are almost bare. Cycling home after staying late to protocol CTs (still got to pay off those ski boots) my nostrils burned with the cold air. It was still 3 degrees above zero, so no snow yet. You can’t disclose publicly a desire for winter or snow in Toronto without being lynched. I do it anyway, daily. Try 30 years of Australian summers. A Medical Student on elective helped me with data entry today for one of my research projects, which left me free to clear a bunch of “follow up” cases I’d emailed myself, clear my emails and check my RSNA registration. It was a productive day. I’m all up-to-date. As we were finishing up the new Admin Assistant to the RIC brought leftover cheese and crackers into the shared room, surplus from an important meeting that afternoon. It must have been an important meeting; the quality of the cheese and crackers and dried fruits was far beyond the usual hospital meeting food. I’d dutifully had a salad for lunch so didn’t need to be asked twice if I wanted to shove handfuls of water crackers topped with dried apricots and squares of cheddar into my face. The currency in any hospital is food. I’m so easily bought.
Daniel has spent the week nursing a lower back injury, from the gym on the weekend. It’s tough cycling home from work, in the dark and cold, after working overtime to see your husband lying on his back on the couch, in tracksuit pants. Especially when he’s still sleeping in bed when I leave for work. Last night he convinced me to wear my wedding ring the other way round to how I’d decided to wear it: the mountain peak design now looks like it sits on my metacarpophalangeal joints rather than exploding out of them. It’s growing on me. I ate a slab of pan-fried pork (in butter, of course) for dinner (it was so cheap at Costco; I have a freezer full) and we watched several episodes of Damages. Glenn Close’s performance is stunning. Her character is mesmerising. We’ve almost finished season 2.