A lockout’ll do that to you
I’m back in Toronto. The picketing here runs 24/7.
Roommate Tristan and I arrived home late last night after a game of squash. We got in the door, and he asked what time it was. I joked, “I stopped caring about the time a few weeks ago.”
Then the the truth of it sank in. I’ve been here almost a week, and my alarm clock is still unplugged.