I was going to regale you with tails of the inner turmoil caused at having to leave my baby in downtown Toronto.
On a sidewalk, no less.
I was going to reflect upon the emotional temper tantrum I threw within the innermost recesses of my soul, the part where my trying toddler resides. I was going to try and emulate, with words, my refusal to accept the inevitable. I was going to proclaim my outright dismay at the injustice of it all.
But I'm tired. And today has been delegated migraine day. And really, there is only so much whining about my baby leaving me that even I am willing to put up with.
So, instead, let's review what I did in the moments directly after the abandonment of my child on the rowdy downtown streets of Toronto.
I went to a movie. And then I went to another movie.
Of course I did.
On my way back to the hotel I was overcome with dread at being alone for that long before sleep became a viable option. So I pulled over at the nearest movie theatre (and we all know that at any given moment I can direct you to no less than five movie theatres) and checked what was playing. There was something starting within 5 minutes and so I yelled "SOLD" and bought some sorrow drowning popcorn and a vat of diet coke and cried through a horror movie.
The tears poured freely, movies theatres are the perfect place for free flowing tears.
When the movie had ended, but my tears had not, I felt mild panic at what may lie ahead on that muggy, hot, and dreary day.
But it was like heaven was looking down upon me because wouldn't luck have it? Another movie was just starting, and so I cried through a comedy.
That was a long day.
But the next day I put on my big girl pants and went to Niagara Falls and got on a boat and rebelled against the flimsy red rain poncho. I decided to let the elements eat me alive. I got soaked, which was fine because it was one million degrees out and I was hot hot hot.
There is something about being left to the devices of nature this grand. The red rain poncho seemed wrong, somehow.
It was tortuously hot out, I could now check witnessing this marvellous wonder off my list and so I headed back to the hotel.
I was deeply lost in thought and missed a highway somewhere and got lost in this little place of perfection I can't even remember the name of. It was riddled with perfectly historical houses and I contemplated instant relocation because my inner self believes it was meant to live in history. Also it was a lot closer to my child than home was.
When the lady at the door said I couldn't live with her I had no choice but to drive back to the hotel in order to fly home and wait for the rest of my offspring to leave me.
Have I mentioned I hate flying and make a very poor seatmate?