There are people who comment on the blog but there are also many people who read and never comment. Often, readers turn into fans of specific commenters. It’s like we are all characters in a reality show people are watching. I constantly get questions and compliments directed at the commenters.

So, commenters, please know: you are liked and discussed over dinner around the world. 

It’s not only horribly cold but also extremely icy in Montréal, so my plan to walk around has been thwarted.

I visited the Las Americas bookstore, which is the best Spanish-language bookstore in North America. The store has been going to the dogs, and the first thing I saw there today was a huge selection of crappy books translated into English. The most proudly showcased book was called something like “How to become as successful as Starbucks.” Well, learning English would be the first step, obviously.

I was getting very disappointed when I spotted a big bookcase with books that were on sale for $2-4. So I dragged out a big sack of books.

I’m besieged by bad luck on this trip. The streets are an ice-rink, the place I went for lunch was out of the items I wanted to order, and Toys-R-Us ran out of Shopkins that I wanted to buy for Klubnikis. Shopkins are huge with 5 – year-olds these days.

On the positive side, I got to spend time with a dear friend from grad school who works in Toronto but lives in Montréal.

And now I’m on the way to get reunited with my suitcase.

I’m hearing that a fresh round of privilege wars is raging on. People are going on and on, whining with abandon, “No, I’m totally more pathetic than you!” They are snatching the losership tiara from each other’s sweaty fingers, taking mortal offense to any suggestion that they are not the most pitiful, pathetic, forlorn rejects on the planet.

Freaks.

“It’s so weird,” I told my sister. “Whenever I go outside at night to turn off the Christmas lights,  I feel terrified. I have images of criminals hiding in the bushes, waiting for me. When I lived at the old place, I felt nothing of the kind, even though the area was kind of shady and I even had police officers question me a couple of times about bank robberies in my street.”

“Oh, but this is obvious, ” my sister said. “The area where you live now is a very family-oriented space. And you perceive anything that has to do with family as inherently dangerous.”

My sister is a genius.

So my suitcase is still in Toronto. It feels like Quebec has already seceded because it is next to impossible to get oneself from Toronto to Montreal.

I have now found myself in the midst of an Arctic cold front without clothes. So I went out to buy a sweater. Knowing that everybody in Quebec is annoyingly tiny, I decided to stay on the safe side and bought an extra large size. And, of course, this extra large turned out to be a real extra large. Normally, a Quebecois version of extra large is everybody else ‘s medium but not this time. So now I’m floating around in this enormous sweater.

Moral of the story: traveling North in January is something only weirdos do.

Last night I didn’t sleep because I was chasing suitcases across Canada. And tonight I’m not sleeping because my sister said, “Look, this is an all-natural spray I bought in Vancouver. Let me spray it on your face, and you’ll experience an incredible surge of energy.”

So I experienced the surge of energy and spent the day flying up and down the stairs in her new house with stacks of books, plates, and toys. And now I’m wondering if “the all-natural spray from Vancouver” is cocaine-based.