Before my story I have an observation: The federal government stole my name and used it in one of its programs. Its called Katimavik. Its a program where young people just out of highschool travel around Canada for a few months and work in schools, volunteer, other jazz. But take a closer look: KATI-MA-VIK. My name is KATIe MArie VI**en. Basically, I am Katimavik.
This weekend is thanksgiving. Every year I know I can look forward to an extended bus ride from P19 on campus to the Zellers plaza (or Kmart Plaza if you're a soo-ite) a few blocks from my house. By extended I mean 9-12 hours depending on traffic and how fast people buy food in Parry Sound. I was scheduled to catch the bus at 530 and arrived home in time to pack at a few minutes to 4, just as the Barrie car was taking off (Sarah, Jaxx and Karen). Setting my packsack down by the door as usual I proceeded to hang out in the kitchen. At 430 I finally decide to pack my belongings but cannot find my packsack anywhere. Then it hits me "its on its way to Barrie!". It had my homework for the weekend, my wallet, all my money and my house keys. I called Sifton; nope they couldn't lock up the house. Could I find the emergency Sifton number? Nope. Was I already late for the bus? Yes. In the end my mother called the man who organized the bus and had him hold it for me (luckily it was running late already) as I secured the house as best I could (my aunt later went back and locked it), and arranged to call Sarah when near Barrie and have our bus take a little detour to get my bag. It was a smooth switch but I'll admit it almost didn't happen. Oh life, how unpredictable you are.
We got in at 3:45am, I actually got some reading done. My mom was so thoughtful, they had two bottles of Perrier cooling in the fridge when I got back just because they know I like it (I know, I'm high class). I'm glad I came home.
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