I have so many better things to be doing than work. Or being here. This week stretches out busy, including another bland steak dinner at the Four Seasons, until a long weekend I'll spend in the Bay doing proposal things - I think I'm in flight mode from the city. I can read all the Jane Jacobs I want but the reality remains: I want some fucking trees and solitude - not bitchy-ass fuck-off-I-gots-other-things-to-do city solitude, but the sort of non-city solitude where you aren't hearing the din of a dozen people at once.
No - actually it's not the city thing - I've just had enough of Toronto. This is enough, now. June 18 was my two year anniversary of being back in Canada - today is probably my two-year anniversary of being back in Toronto. Thank you. That's enough. Nothing personal. I want to explore some more now. Oh well - I know when I'm leaving and it's soon enough, and when it happens I'll probably be shocked and dismayed about how my time here sped by.
Oh - if anybody feels the need to tell me anything along the lines of how she thinks I should suck 'it' up, whatever she thinks 'it' might be (and I'd be fascinated to know what she thinks the 'it' might be in a case like this), I'd like to tell her I've been flying the Red Dragon since Friday and this is the first whinge she's even smelt off me. So . . . you know . . . suck it up.