I’ve given up worrying about the border guards. The Canadians don’t care where I work anymore. They can barely get enough enthusiasm going for my visits to even glance at my paperwork half the time. The Americans? Well, fuck ’em. They ask a billion questions and shine flashlights in my car, and they are kind of intimidating, but it IS my country I’m trying to enter, so I guess I’m not so worried about what they think of me. I now just tell them I’m unemployed. They get to ask the question that everyone wants to ask me, but are too polite, usually, to do so. What do I do for income. And, even though I fail to see how it’s their business, I tell them something true.

You really only need one kidney to live.