Christmas, 2005. My parents rented an enormous cottage in Morin Heights to host my dad’s side of the family. We were there for a week. I can’t recall any other moment in my early adult life when I was this relaxed. I had just recorded an EP in Montreal that I gave to everyone as gifts. I drank my weight in Bailey’s. My dad and I played so much guitar. That sweater kept me warm in the basement bedroom because I refused to sleep in the attic because that Aurore l’enfant martyre movie qui a fait pleurer les matantes had just come out, and you know what? I was spooked. My mom and I watched a day-long House marathon. My brother and I played XBox.