So today was therapy day, and as befits the trend of my current life, it was complicated and odd.

See, Joe, the wonderful fantastic awesome roomie who drives me thither and back, is working a 10 am to 6:30 pm shift for the summer, which kind of makes driving me to my usual 11 am therapy appointment a no-go.

Luckily, today I was able to arrange for all my future appointments to be at 9:30 am, so Joe can at least drop me off and I can then bus home.

But before that, I had to deal with today, so my plan was to get Joe to drop me off at the Denny’s we love and I would wait for my 11 am appointment there.

See, the wonderful thing about that Denny’s is that it’s only about a ten minute walk from my therapist’s office. Sa-weet!

And that went fine, although my appetite did one of its vanishing acts and I just could not bring myself to order anything besides the Diet Coke I was sipping.

That’s probably for the best, though. I am feeling rather financially bruised this month, and I couldn’t really afford it.

So I sat there and played solitaire games on my tablet and sipped Diet Coke and was occasionally amused by the sudden English words in the conversation of the Chinese family eating near me, the best of which was “sau-sage slam”.

Honestly, I was feeling pretty crappy. Nobody’s fault, least of all Denny’s, just one of those days where you wake up with a headache and low blood sugar and a general feeling of crappiness, and it takes a while for all that to burn off and let you feel like a human being again.

Luckily, by the time I left Denny’s I had woken up enough to feel human, or at least like a member of the primate family.

After I got the time change sorted with my therapist, I told him about not getting in to VFS. He was gratifyingly shocked. (See, Simon? Everyone thought I was a shoo-in for the program!)

I told him about my big plan to send an email out to all kinds of people in positions of power explaining my case to them in hoping of bringing pressure down on my nemesis Simon.

He talked me down a little and suggested that a more effective strategy might be to email Simon alone and plead my case to him, and ask him what I can possibly do to prove to him that I can do the work.

Besides taking a few lame rinky-dink writing courses and waiting till next session, which I think is in December or January. That would suck, but I have decided that I will do it if I have no other choice.

I am going to give him the list of everything. I calculate that in the last five years, I have written nearly 2.5 million words, not to mention the novels and all the videos I made.

And I am ready, willing, and unstable enough to do any crazy writing task he hands me. Want me to write a whole novel over a weekend? I will do it or die trying. Write a full screenplay while he watches? No problem. Wax and shine his car?

Maybe. Depends on how much I trust him.

The advantage of this initial approach is that it is non-confrontational, and is actually me submitting to him… in order to get what I want. That is classic Dale Carnegie psychology and will probably work a lot better than my flaming phoenix of self-righteousness approach, which would probably just put him on the defensive.

If this approach does not work, I will then contemplate upping the aggression level and taking my case to a higher court, as it were.

Nothing like talking to an older man (in the form of my therapist) in order to cool the jets of even a 41 years young fellow like me.

So after therapy, it was time to take the bus home. No problem, there is a bus stop about a ten minute walk from the therapist’s office, over near Costco. The stop is minimalist, to put it kindly. No bench, no shelter, not even a list of bus arrival times. Just the sign that says BUS STOP on a pole.

So I had to stand while I waited, and that wasn’t fun. Plus a LOT of trucks were going by, which made the whole “listen for the bus” thing more complicated.

Trucks can sound like buses.

But things didn’t get really complicated until I decided, on a whim, to get out and take the Skytrain when my bus pulled into a Skytrain station.

I mistakenly got on the one marked YVR, because if you are starting from downtown Vancouver, you take the Skytrain marked “YVR-Richmond” to get home.

But this was not that Skytrain. What I didn’t know was that I was on the little leg of the Skytrain that goes to the airport. So I had mistakenly got on the airport-ward Skytrain, and that was definitely not where I wanted to go.

I had thought it would be just a few hops from Bridgeport to Richmond-Brighouse and it had already turned into this whole thing.

So I changed trains and got back to Bridgeport station, and got on a train heading for Waterfront, figuring I would just get off at the next stop, switch trains again, and be headed home.

But it was not that simple, of course, and I ended up lost again until I figured out how to find a Richmond bound train.

Phew! I had wanted a little bit of adventure and I got a double handful instead.

No real harm done, though. I made it through it all and only ended up getting home later than I thought I would, and got a little more exercise than I had planned.

Tomorrow, I go hang out with my big sister and her beau. Tonight, I hang out with La Gang and watch videos.

But for now… I am going to take a nap.

Talk to you tomorrow, folks!