If I could live in a book, I would probably live in Anne of Green Gables/Avonlea/the Island. I've been rereading and rewatching Anne this weekend, following the harrowing experience of my second pharmacology exam. If I lived in that world there would be exams too, but there would also be green, expansive fields, cooperative animals in Patty's Place, and dresses. Rather that, than this dreary city existence with dirty rainy streets and flash floods and wet shoes and spotted white uniforms. And of course, if I lived in that world, I could exclaim (like I wanted to yesterday) "But it oughtn't to rain on a Sunday!" and I would have been met with a chorus of agreement.
I don't know what's wrong. In medicine it's called a prodrome--there are signs and symptoms of something wrong, but you don't know what it is. Oh well. I suppose I'll be able to tell pretty soon. Meanwhile, a barrage of exams--one to three every week, for mercy's sake--still await me.
To end with a lighthearted anecdote: I was on the same bus as a childhood love this morning. I don't think he noticed me--my bespectacled head was buried quite deeply into the disreputable copy of Anne of the Island that I bought from a booksale last Friday, with Ado's money--but I tried to hide all the same. If only all childhood loves could turn out like Gilbert and Anne! In this case I rather suspect I was the Charlie Sloane and he the Anne Shirley.
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