Residents of the poles only get a few hours of daylight at certain points of the year — if my seasonal depression is bad in Ottawa, I can’t even imagine the bottles of prozac and zoloft they go through.
daylight savings
I’ve been catcalled at both 7 a.m. and p.m., in short mini-skirts and long, formless winter coats alike, on busy streets and just shy of my doorstep — the street urchins of Sandy Hill are versatile in their efforts to ruin my day.
