A friend told us he's moving out of Toronto because his new rent would eat nearly everything extra he earns. I made a joke about visiting for the cheap parking, and we all laughed, but I felt properly sad afterward. He's not going to another planet. Still, there's a difference between deciding to hang out after work and arranging a weekend two months ahead. I'm happy he found somewhere that gives him room to breathe, annoyed that it takes leaving, and slightly embarrassed by how quickly I started talking about housing numbers instead of saying I'd miss him. Sent that part later. He replied that I could help carry his couch, so apparently the friendship has survived my emotional breakthrough.

Volleyball ended an hour ago and my body apparently hasn't received the final score. I'm sitting at the kitchen table with warm legs and a foot that keeps bouncing under the chair, still ready to chase something. During the last set I felt quick, even got to a ball I thought was gone, then nearly tripped over my own teammate celebrating it. Now my right hip is reminding me about the entire day I spent folded toward a monitor before going to play. Not really sore, just tight when I stand up. Had water, had food, should be sleepy. Instead I'm explaining the match to a roommate who has already brushed his teeth and clearly made different plans for this conversation.

Two buses came together while I was waiting, and I caught myself thinking this always happens, exactly the sort of claim I spend the workday asking people to qualify. Of course I remember standing there watching an empty road longer than I remember the ordinary days when one turns up. But that doesn't make the wait imaginary either. I'm interested in the gap between a route looking acceptable over a whole day and one person's trip being miserable at the same time each week. Dad would enjoy hearing me admit that an average doesn't settle his complaint. I'm not calling him tonight. He'll declare victory before I finish the sentence, and then we'll be at it for an hour.