I’m currently staying with my lovely grandmother. Despite her wonderful hospitality, a few days into it I was itching for the internet. I could just feel my email calling out to me. There are a million locked networks in her building but no one kind enough to leave even a linksys open. Today I came across the matrix that is the local community centre. Not just a gym and pool but, apparently, a giant figure skating competition area as well. There’s an ice rink in the middle of this building! It threw me off and, frankly, the oodles of girls wearing sparkly things is a little nauseating. After creeping through the many hallways filled with seniors and exiting through the gift shop, I found the library. This library is small. Teensy weensy, not-much-bigger-than-someone’s-closet small. Shelves only four high, filled with a mixture of hardcover Agatha Christie and softcover vampire romances. A miniscule music section, perused (seemingly) by the same man every fifteen minutes. Flip. Flip. Flip. He’s thorough. What is he looking for? He strikes me as a MUZAK type but perhaps I’m just reading too much into his socially awkward (definitely not ironic) attire?
Looks like I’ll be getting to know this place pretty well.