Fencing myself in to keep you out...

As my parents' place backs onto the ever-more-bustling Northfield Drive, it can get pretty damn loud over here. Thus was I summoned from Guelph today to help my father assemble the framework of an imposing eight-foot plywood fence along the back of the lot. Dividing my time between the ivory tower and the bookstore had made me forget how much I like working with my hands, especially when the work mostly entails climbing around like a monkey and playing with power tools. The only disappointment is my tender bourgeois paws' apparent unsuitability for the task at hand. I officially have two bajillion tiny cuts on my hands. Yes, two bajillion.

Also: may this note serve as a reminder that I have to bring some goddamn pliers back to Guelph with me.