Woooooo! Woooooo, I say! And just to reiterate for those in the back: WOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

After almost eight months of waiting, after almost two years of staying in Canada at the mercy of my employer, I have finally become Canada’s newest permanent resident. This feels amazing, eh. If you already know what it’s like to live somewhere only on your work permit, you understand what I mean. If you don’t know… Imagine not being able to quit your job. Imagine that not only are you banned from applying to all the other similar (or better) jobs, but if anything were to happen to your job here and now, you’d have to leave town entirely. No second chances, no excuses – just get the hell out. Imagine playing the long game – not weeks, not months, not quarters, but years – trying to succeed at this intricate balancing act of pleasing your boss, and your boss’s boss, and your boss’s boss’s boss. (By the time things get to your boss’s boss’s boss’s level, they my as well be a leviathan: a hint of a giant murky creature swimming deep below you, powerful enough to swallow you whole without even trying.)

It’s over. It’s finally, finally over.

That’s not to say I hate my job: it’s fine, but 11 years and four months and two days is a very long time to be together…

My incredibly ambitious five-year-plan is just about complete. On Saturday, I’ll go and take a final official picture for my PR card. I’ll send it off along with my official printout and a check for my 2020 US taxes. I’ll get an oil change, because it’s been a while and the road ahead is a long one. And then… Based on what little googling I’ve done while celebrating and grinning like a fool, I’m guaranteed to be able to return to Canada as a PR holder, even if the card is still in the mail. That means hello, Ohio. That means freedom. That means a very big “sorry, eh” to my vaccine trial: tomorrow’s visit will likely be my last. That means that, hypothetically, if everything goes just right, I might be fully immunized within a month. Hope everlasting…

I well and truly hope that when they take my blood tomorrow morning, they won’t test for alcohol content. Heh. (Before you judge me – what the hell am I supposed to do? Go to a karaoke bar and potentially start a whole new supercluster? My rendition of “Don’t Stop Me Now” by Queen is sufficiently traumatizing to unsuspecting civilians as it is.) I see champagne in my future this weekend.

Talked to my mom today: she’s experiencing some side effects from the second Pfizer shot she got yesterday. She feels cold, and none of her blankets help… The sole silver lining is that this surely means the vaccine is working, right?.. Intellectually, abstractly, I know she’ll be okay – but still…

In covid news, Biden has decided to double down. The new goal is to get 200 million shots during his first 100 days in office. He hit the first 100 million on the 58th day, so it’s pretty much guaranteed he’ll reach 200 million by the 100th day. That is some grade-A showmanship. Normally, I’d say that no one likes a show-off, but I can’t help admiring the logistical triumph of it all. Well done, eh.

Good night, y’al. I hope your day was at least half as happy and exciting as mine.