In November of 2004, I didn’t write a novel. This is a series of excerpts from all the novels I didn’t write that month.

“Hey, do you remember that time I thought I was in love? But then it turned out I had appendicitis, so I never got a chance to tell him? And then when I came out of surgery, it turned out he hadn’t ever lived here? So it turned out I wasn’t in love after all. But that was pretty funny.”

I stare at her.

“Anyway, I just bring it up because there was this other time that we were taking about relationships and how you didn’t think you’d ever get married. And I told you that I was sure you would find someone some day, but you didn’t believe me. And then it turned out that you were right. Life is so weird!”

I blink.

“Wow. I just realised that I’ve known you since you were thirteen. Remember how awkward grade eight was with Julie Swinton having that enormous crush on you? Didn’t she move away, and you didn’t have to deal with it anymore?”

“That wasn’t – ”

“Wow. I just can’t believe all the time that’s passed. Isn’t life interminably dull sometimes? And then just like that something exciting happens! And all that seems to do is highlight the excruciating boredom of the dull times.”

“Ma’am, would you like to order?”

“Oh, what? Gosh! I haven’t even had a chance to look at the menu. Can you give me a few minutes?”

“Of course,” I reply. I turn and walk back to the kitchen.

“This is ridiculous,” I said to Sid the line cook.

“What? Oh, wow. Did it happen again?” he replied.