The half ounce. Financed by one, shared by many.

In ten minutes, the redness of the sky and the morning fog are gone. The day resumes.

Sometimes, living just means being at the right place at the right time.

Nala has been coming into my room when Loo is here. I think she trusts girls more and might even go so far as to be curious about them, possibly because it was Kate who adopted her. For the first time this morning she accepted food from me. It was a Whiskas Beef Temptations.

If wine were a liquor, it would taste like sake. The statement doesn’t really make sense until one actually tries a cup of the warm liquid, and I have to admit, I didn’t believe Louise when she first said it.

Pat, Aaron, Trolley, and I, along with the respective girls/girlfriends, Jen, Karen, Andrea, and Loo, went to the Japanese Village for some celebratory teppanyaki. Pat found a new full-time development job, Trolley went from contract to full-time, and Aaron got an eight-month quality assurance contract, all within the same month. Everyone managed to make it out on the same night, which is not an easy task among the eight in attendance.

The last time we met together like this was when I first got my job at the beginning of spring, when we went to a little restaurant in Chinatown to celebrate, sort of like the meeting of the heads of the four territories in Infernal Affairs 2. It was important that my three closest friends in the city could make it last time, and this time, it just so happened that each one of them got new jobs.

Every main meal comes in six to seven courses with mushroom soup, salad (consumed using chopsticks), shrimp appetizers, mixed vegetables, rice, and sprouts. I got the filet mignon, which is unlike anything I’ve ever tasted; tender enough to stick through with a chopstick, but firm enough not to fall off. It’s so good, that I may sacrifice the excitement of trying something new the next time I go, for the savoury taste of their best cut beef.

Something that I desperately want to do again, but difficult enough to accomplish with everyone there, to make me appreciate the time when it comes.

This morning I woke up and my analogue watch told me it was the 31st. I didn’t believe it.

I could have sworn that I put my October bus pass in the little compartment of my bag where I keep my change, lens cloth, lip balm, stash, and prophylactics, but instead, I left it on the shelf in my room. This is the same bus pass that I bought seven days prior so that I wouldn’t have to wait in inordinately long lines, and wouldn’t forget on the first of the month and shell out $2.60 in change.

So I ended up paying the driver anyway, noting the 10¢ increase since the last time I paid with change. Groggy, I make it to the stop just in time to catch my next bus, something that never happens, but I let it go by anyway in favour of buying a caramel corretto from Second Cup.

For the last two weeks I’ve been trying to ween myself off coffee. It’s satisfying to have something warm and sweet (and caffeinated) to sip with a bagel in the morning. I’ve recently gone to the lighter orange pekoe (from two bags to one bag), and I’ve avoided buying coffee if I don’t feel the need for one.

But today is Friday.