I don’t know about you, but I need me a hot cuppa tea.

Several exciting highlights of the weekend included:

Saturday’s move-a-thon, where I spent my afternoon and a good chunk of the evening helping friends John and Tina move into their vast and lovely farmhouse in Burlington, and then off to Paul’s birthday party in the evening at the Duke of Gloucester. Saturday was the official Day of Bad Transport. I got lost in the labyrinthine same-name corridors near Dundas & Keele, wandering about in befuddlement looking for “Indian Road”. Instead I found “Indian Grove” and “Indian Road Crescent“, and was almost about to throw in the towel when I stumbled upon the right street.

Later, and and I got stuck in insane traffic on the QEW, and sat parked on the highway, waiting for accidents to happen. And they did. We saw a car get rear-ended by oncoming traffic that failed to notice the unremitting stream of glaring red brake lights stretching in an arresting ribbon to the horizon. Dumbass.

Later that evening, completely forgetting where the hell the Duke of G. was, I had Amy drop me off on the north side of the Eaton’s Centre, and then proceeded to walk up Yonge all the way to the Church of Scientology, just south of Bloor. ‘Cause that’s where the pub is. At the end of the evening, after experiencing the same Craig Burnatowski shock as (and also, Dean Williams shock! whoa!), she and walked me to the subway with *plenty* of time before public transit shut down and stranded me.

DOWNTOWN public transit, that is. Apparently, in the Wilds of Weston, all buses stop at 1:20am on Saturdays, which means I missed the last ride home by about 5 minutes. So, I used what little money I had to get a cab part of the way home, then walked the rest of the way in the scary, scary darkness. I really wish I had better night vision. Or ANY night vision.

Sunday was very quiet. and I went to visit his Oma, who was feeling a little blue, then we rushed over to the Weston Santa Claus Parade and had fun watching until the rain and hail began, at which point we prudently stepped indoors for some fish and chips and watched the many drumming and twirling bands go by through the window. We walked home amidst the crowds, warmed up, and then Dan came over. I finally got to see “Spider-Man 2” (insanely disappointing, unlike the totally amazing ‘The Incredibles’! Go see it NOW!), and due to a craving for crap edibles, we had the world’s most replusive food, KFC. I’m not proud. I’m also not pleased that Dan’s desire to read my Sandman collection was thwarted by the strange absence of my book 2 hardcover from my shelves. Where the hell are my graphic novels disappearing to?!?! I can’t find ‘Batgirl: Year One’, either, or a whole bunch of other books I know I once owned. Grr.

Tonight, I’m stopping to have a quick ‘catch-up’ coffee with Alastair before I head home. Then on Thursday, dinner with and . Observe my valiant efforts to combat the Isolation at Christmas blues.

3 thoughts on “Cuppa

  1. Those Indian insert street type heres in the Keele area are wicked confusing. lives in that area – which, by the by, is completely gorgeous, is it not? I LOVE those houses with the steep front lawns. Those people must be in awesome shape – and and I were alternately amused and alarmed by the startling similarity of names of pretty much every street in the neighborhood (maybe it’s to confuse and thus keep the rifraff at bay?).

  2. On the contrary, my dear – I live in one of those steep-lawned front houses – let me tell you that it is, indeed, possible, to live in a house where every day you climb 63 stairs to get home, and *still* be miserably out of shape. Impressive, eh?


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