Labour Day and compliments

Had a great encounter the other day. I was cycling home on Gerrard, stopped at a red light near the beer store; a poorly-dressed man with very long hair, clutching a beer bottle, was crossing the street. He stopped and said, "Not only are you lovely, but I bet you're intelligent."

It took me a moment to register that I'd just received a very fine compliment. "You'd be right," I laughed.

"I was at the Society of Economists conference once," he said, and I noticed that he, too, though bleary and not too clean, looked intelligent, "and they asked, 'How many fortune-tellers are there in the United States?' My answer was thirty thousand minus ten percent, and that is still the standard." (Or maybe he said three hundred thousand. Sorry, I forget.)

"Wow," I said. "That's amazing." The light changed. "See you!" I called, and pedalled off.

The world is full of stories.

It's fall, but still summer. That chilly snap in the air - sometimes. Never sure, when you leave the house, if you're going to boil or freeze. This morning, I wore my winter housecoat for a bit, and socks, and last night, going to bed, I actually thought of my heating pad for the first time in months. But I'm still looking out at full summer colour in the garden - hard to believe it will soon all be white and grey. I remember that guy who came not long ago to see the basement apartment. He looked at the astounding beauty of the garden. "Does all this die in winter?" was all he said. I knew then that he did not belong here.

Happy Labour Day to you all. I'm going to labour and have fun: work, go to the Y, work some more, eat, go for a walk in the rain, maybe watch a French movie I've rented, drink some wine and eat some more, and read, and write. I will have a productive day. Because not only am I lovely, but intelligent. The man said so.