nearly on her way

Dear God, this is the usual state I'm in before leaving for an extended trip - beyond exhausted, drained like an overcooked noodle. This time my left eye is bright red with a burst blood vessel; as I rode my bike yesterday, I kept that eye closed against the cold, so there was a one-eyed lunatic weaving about. There is sun, but it's cold.

Whereas in Vancouver, where I will land tomorrow, 90% chance of rain Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Hooray.

So - packing the rain boots.

The last Ryerson class on Monday, all of them reading spectacular work, the room infused with a feeling of trust and courage. A new editing client on Tuesday - he read my article in Zoomer and was determined to begin work on his memoir before my departure, so insisted we meet asap. An interesting man with a very interesting life - this will be fun. Today, more tramping about the house with John and Tatiana contemplating the renovation, how to rebuild the staircase, where will the door go, after 15 minutes, I'm ready to give up. I did NOT do Carole's class at the Y, could not even contemplate putting out that much energy - I just went in to say goodbye to everyone and then to have a long hot shower. And then to the dermatologist to learn that the brown patch behind my ear is not ear cancer, it's an age spot. Good news all round.

And then across town to be with my boys - Ben bouncing off the walls - everything he says and does is with enormous gusto. "STEEETCAR!" he screams, his face alight with excitement as if it's the first one he has ever seen, every time one goes by his bedroom window. Eli meanwhile was playing Risk with his dad. He's five. I have never played Risk. He won.

And now - the last minute things, trying not to aggravate my eye; the bag is nearly packed, and out the door I go first thing tomorrow. It is good to get away. It is good to get away. I know that, but each time, at this point, I swear I will never do this again.

Don't listen to her. She'll have forgotten all about it by tomorrow night.