a wolf angel is not a good angel

Margaret Atwood and I have a love-hate relationship. Well, no, we have a love-hate-ignore relationship. I love or hate her work; she has no idea who I am.

Loves: Cat’s Eye, The Robber Bride, Good Bones and Simple Murders, The Blind Assassin
Hates: Oryx & Crake, Alias Grace, The Edible Woman

I had no idea she even had a new book out until I saw a side note about it in a newspaper or magazine, and it happened to be in the library so, why not? This is one of my favourite genres, modern retellings of classic tales (any tales — fairy tales, classic literature, mythology, whatever; this is part of why I enjoy Winterson), and one which she is usually very good at. So I was expecting good things.

And I was not disappointed. The book isn’t her greatest ever, don’t get me wrong: I was not overwhelmed by beauty or brilliance. It’s short, it’s much more like her short stories in tone than her books (as I am a big fan of her short stories, more than her novels or poetry, this is a good thing in my world). But still, I am thinking about the book. Penelope is self-aware, though it’s all in retrospect; the chorus of hanged maidens makes the book work as well as it does.

Wolfa wants to dance with George.
Wolfa wants to think about Halloween.
Wolfa wants to bake a cake with him.
Wolfa wants… … to get a haircut. … a new pair of sneakers. … to sleep all day. … Wolfa wants change.
Wolfa wants people to see, touch, and experience “change”.
Wolfa wants you. She’s beautiful, she’s lonely, she wants YOU, your heart, your love, your body
Wolfa wants to marry a Norwegian, but she doesn’t know any.

Wolfa Gets Welfare
Wolfa gets a funny feeling and decides to give hers away
Wolfa gets Anthony to stop; he gets angry and leaves
Wolfa gets a little unnerved by Lee’s wanton sexuality
Wolfa gets chocolate as Kate watches

The other day, I met a friend[1] of mine in the library. I was reading trashy stuff in the reading room there — I love their reading rooms — when suddenly, “Wolfa?”[2]

So we had a conversation, which was really nice, though I spend the entire time fiddling and fidgeting, enough that he worried that he was bothering or annoying me. No, no, I am just feeling restless. Fiddly. I used to take pieces of paper and tear them up into small square bits, smaller than confetti, messier. I have never known what that said about me.

[1] We need more words to subdivide this concept.
[2] Very weird to pretend anyone calls me that.

I have got myself a floor person. For next Monday. (Does it worry me I found someone who is free in 4 days? Yes.) Electrician is coming on Saturday (tonight is light fixture night). Painter a week Monday (paint colours, not so much yet). I have yet to organise internet/phone/tv, but, you know, I got something done!

My mother asked me today if I was overwhelmed, what with the packing and all that I have not even thought about starting.

I never quite got around to posting my travel pictures. Maybe I will eventually. Until then, one of my favourite pictures.

A friend won tickets to Shopgirl, so I went tonight. It was maybe worth the money I paid for it. But perhaps not. Still: movie! Getting out.

It was really nice to see her; it had been a while.

I signed everything today.

When I got there, the current owner’s partner tells me, Oh, by the way, the movers are coming Saturday. (I was supposed to get occupancy Friday, in the “entirely vacant apartment” sense.) No, I say, this does not work: the electrician is coming on Saturday. No, I say, I cannot change this. Why, I wonder but do not say, are you telling me this only now?

They will be out of one bedroom and the bathroom in the morning, which is where he will start. We have changed the agreement to say that if it takes him longer because of the movers or their stuff, they will pay the extra. Yes, I said, I would like that in the agreement. And I know this is just the last little irritations, but I am still so annoyed.

No, it won’t be a big deal in the end. But you know — it’s just one more thing on top of everything, and I am many things, but I am not very resilient, not right now. Nothing is restful; I am never relaxed.

Signing is confirmed for tomorrow, which is comforting. Ish. Maybe. It’s also making me rather paranoid. The lecture the notary gave me on “ways the caisse pop can foreclose on you so you lose everything” was not fun. (Upshot: did you run out of money? SELL NOW.)

I am planning on moving between the 13-21, so soon I will be able to shut up about this. And be less stressed, what with the “so, you could start packing any time now” refrain having to be over by then, because I will have to have packed by then. (Right?) What do we think the chances are that I will be able to find someone to redo my floors . . . next week?

Let this somewhat nuttier than usual period be over soon. Let it be (P)MS. Please.