As part of Osgoode's Intensive Program in Criminal Law, I'm spending my final term of law school at Old City Hall. Go to the first day.
The judge I was to follow today is ill, so I have the day off to start my seminar on wiretap procedure and finish reading Old City Hall. In the book, the Leafs are on a Stanley Cup run. Who would've guessed: magic realism in a crime novel.
Last night I had a nightmare that my fall-term marks came out and they were horrible: Cs, Ds and one G, which I construed as bad intuitively. In waking life, grades don't much trouble me -- they've been bad for the last four semesters, there's no reason they should improve now -- but evidently they still trouble my unconscious.