Goodness, it's good to be back. Back in a city where they serve menu items with ingredients with names like 'compote' and 'tapenade' and 'bocconcini'. Back with my cat. Back with my gym and my lack of processed foods in the cupboard. Being at home, this time, was just like PMTing; crankiness, insecurity, angst and non-stop eating. I feel loads better now. Partly because of Figaro being a little surprising. It's so strange how you can adore someone and still underestimate them.
Part of the problem with being home was the annual shadfly infestation; a distinguishing feature of North Bay. What wikipedia doesn't tell you is how they smell. Jeebus, do they ever smell. When they congregate around streetlights and whatever and then die in a big fucking pile - piles which don't take long to accumulate, because actually a shadfly's only tasks in life are to fuck off and die - they fucking reek of dead fish. North Bay smelt sooo badly of dead fish. And of course it meant I didn't want to go swimming in Nipissing, which they spawn and emerge from. As for Trout Lake, well, I was too fucking busy acting premenstrual and eating, I guess.
Upwards and onwards.