It was one of those days where time flies by like a bumblebee; nonchalantly. The temperature was finally starting to look like spring. As usual my workload was nearly unmanageable, but my coworkers were taking care of the surplus work I had. Feeling less stress than the average day, I felt compel to accept a lunch (averaging 2 hours in length) offer from my mother. We ate, of course, and I even drank a beer, oh frivolous me. We talked politic on that beautiful Thursday as we always do. The topic of the day was the never-ending student strike and the inability of the complaisant and ineffective Québec government to deal effectively with the problem it created in the first place. We were blissfully unaware of the content of the so called special law that the National Assembly was going to pass. Life was relatively good. The next day … not so much.