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spoke of pasts and futures and situations to be dealt with but Louise seemed oddly quiet. When I finally exhausted all of my concerns, she softly dropped a bomb on me. She told me, "I sold my Mothers house and have purchased an enchanting old house east of Cornwall on the Quebec side of the St. Lawrence River." Louise continued, "Every time I went home I passed by it and toyed with the idea of making it into a Bed and Breakfast, to get away from the madness of the GTA." I swear my heart stopped for a moment, then crumbled a little more. She told me there was plenty of room for my husband and me and showed me a bunch of drawings shed had prepared by an architect. My head was spinning, I was jumping to all kinds of conclusions and all I could see was that my life was in ruins. Louise listed her condo with a realtor the following week. The following day, Dougs boss called me. The prick informed me that Head Office at the Motors wasnt prepared to take chances on Dougs delicate condition and was pensioning him off as soon as his recovery period was over! Perfect! A hot lover lost to another province and a cool husband disabled by inherited heart disease! Is this how clinical depression starts? I tried to relax but every thought led back to my ongoing string of bad luck. I thought back and brooded yet again over the theft of my car and the loss of my laptop computer. I got the car back after a week or so but the computer, with my shameful little diary in it was nowhere to be found. Then three weeks later, after the insurance claim gave me a new one, the police department phoned to tell me my computer had been recovered. I seriously considered getting it back, until Doug pointed out Id have to give back the new one. I reminded him of my diary. He assured me that the only way I could be connected back to my stories would be by me physically retrieving my computer. I quickly realized there was no way I could handle the embarrassment of confronting a cop who may have read my diary. My Diary was gone and I was devastated. It wasnt that I read it over and over, it was that Id lost all those thoughts and feelings Id put into words. The insurance company replaced my computer, but the new one was just a little black box with no soul. I hooked it up to my phone line, loaded in my Sympatico disc and checked my e-mails. To my surprise, a mysterious message from myself was amongst the others. I opened it and was thrilled to find this message along with MY ENTIRE DIARY attached to it! Dear Laura, My name is Michelle and Id like to explain to you how this message found its way to you. My husband is a tow truck driver

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and two weeks ago, his dispatcher sent him to pick up your stolen car from the ditch it was abandoned in. After he winched your car out of the muck, he found your laptop computer underneath. It was all scratched up and covered in mud, so Brad threw it into his trucks cab for safekeeping. He dropped your car off at the Police compound, but completely forgot about the computer. Friday came and when he cleaned out the truck for the weekend driver, he found your poor computer under the front seat. Brad thought it was wrecked for sure, figured youd get a new one from the insurance company and brought it home. While he was packing our van to go to the cottage, I cleaned the caked mud off your computer with a toothbrush and vacuumed out all the dust. I pushed the power-on button and miraculously "Windows 98" lit up the screen. Brad suggested I bring it along to give my sister-in-law Amy and I something to amuse ourselves with while he and Tim were out fishing. On the way up to Kaladar, I plugged it into the lighter and checked through all the programs and files that were in it. I asked Amy what the "DDD" I noticed in My Documents might be. She thought it might be something private and told me not to mess with it. I clicked on it anyway and up came this file called "Dear Dirty Diary". I scanned through the first three paragraphs, exited it immediately and shut down the computer. Amy asked me if I was bored with it already. Blushing like crazy, I lied and told her I couldnt read a jiggling computer on such a rough road. Bright and early Saturday morning, the guys were off down the lake. It was a cool spring day so Amy lit the fireplace to get all cozy. Since the men would probably be hunting most of the day, we decided to be sloppy and lazy. Nightgowns and slippers were to be the dress code for the day and spoiling ourselves lavishly was to be our only concern. As we sipped our morning coffee, I casually told Amy about the story of yours I found last night. I told her it sounded really personal, sort of like a sexy diary. Showing her usual amount of regard for others privacy, she immediately insisted that we read it. I clicked on your file once more and began to read your words aloud. Amys impatience was soon rewarded with the details of your attempted affair with Johnston. I blushed from head to toe when I read aloud about your peculiar little pastimes after your husband ignored you on New Years Day. When I recited your first encounter with Louise, Amy gave me the silliest look of disbelief you could ever imagine. At that point, she took control of the computer and took her turn at vocalizing your memoirs. I prepared us an emergency ration of chocolate treats to