I was less generous with my tip to the driver this time, partly because he talked very loudly on his Bluetooth the whole trip into Burnaby, but mostly because I have to be very careful with my newfound windfall. At least until Connor and I can sit down and have a talk about our individual money situations and how soon we can afford to boot out his roommate and until I can find a job that pays more than Molly’s amazing grocery-store gig.
It’s just after eight, and a Thursday night, so Connor is certainly home—some celebrity reality show he loves is on Thursday nights and he always races home after his acting class to watch it, even though he could DVR it like a normal person. He calls it his weekly “alone time” and says he needs the decompression space after his grueling emotional workouts
