Moving day

No, I haven’t dropped off the face of the planet. Yet. Just moving to Brampton… and still haven’t decided if it’s the first step.

This is dreadful of me. Seriously. People are reduced to the level of animals in Haiti — stepping over dead bodies to find a place to sleep in the streets — and I’m  back here in one of the pinnacles of Western Civilization, throwing an internal tantrum because the gorgeous little apartment I’m moving into doesn’t have an equally gracious location. Other than the mega-shopping mall across the street, that is.

This is what twelve years of being spoiled rotten re: life choices does to you, kiddies.

Shoemom and Shoesis have been unfailingly helpful, gracious, generous and kind, even when the tantrum threatened to become external. I’ve joked with them more than once this week that they should go into business as organizational consultants for busy people.

And now it’s moving day, and I have many, many things to do. Not least of which is get over my own childish self and realise that in order to fulfill a dream, one has, eventually, to do something about it.

Goodbye, city of my unfulfilled dreams. See you again sometime — maybe — when I’ve figured it out.

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