I am 24. It is the third day of me being far better than everyone else at winner-plays-on Tetris. I’m on my living room bed alongside Callahan and Romesh, and also Michiel and Judith, two Belgian couchsurfers staying with me for a few days. A few seemingly wise, younger hippies left last week after backyard fires and grocery store looting and not knowing about Godzilla.
My house has become a sort of den of iniquity for myself and my friends, as well as people my friends know, and people they just met. While most people leave downtown at 3am hoping for a quick cab and a decent night’s sleep, we head back to my place, top left with the light on, to keep the party going. I’m almost always the last to go to sleep, or at least close to it, partly because I want to make sure the house remains intact, but probably mostly because I don’t want the night to go on without me. I, like many of my friends, battle happily with the fear of missing out.
Now I am in my kitchen, which has become a flurry of baking activity, with Brock and Paddy. The whole city will soon be eating our delicious treats. One of my friends comes over for a few minutes but leaves so as now to be implicated in our pursuits.
I watch the sun come up from my roof. It’s garbage day and one by one the neighbours take their out their trash. We loudly narrate their lives as they keep their heads down and ignore us. Rajiv is on the phone changing his flight so that he doesn’t have to leave. I make my way down the ladder to put on Wake Up for anyone who managed to sneak a few hours of sleep in. We will soon be disrupting an unveiling of a community garden by our friends in a band, so we need to be ready for that.