I'm pretty exhausted. It's a happy exhaustion, the kind that comes after a long, full day. And because I'm overwhelmed at the thought of writing anything creative and quirky and inspiring this evening, I'll recap my day for you. And then I'll go to bed. Deal?
Prologue: Last Night
Last night was a late one. By choice. I hung out with Nathan and Sam (my brother and his girlfriend) at Sam's new place, eating pizza, watching State of Play (highly recommended, especially to writers and Rachel McAdams fans), and speculating as to what some people might assume "my type" is. I'd love to know. What sort of fella do people think I'd want to spend ridiculous amounts of time with? If you say "nice boy," I might vomit.
As I was leaving, I met a group of tall, handsome, drunk gentlemen in the elevator. They invited me to go out with them. I declined. I'm starting to develop a complex; I attract crazy strangers. (Hint: "drunk" is not my type.)
The bus was late. I was home by 12:50. I was in bed by 1:30.
This morning, I chased the bus and made it to church early so I could dedicate my morning to adorableness in the nursery. Twin toddlers, both extremely blond (one with curls and one without) teetered around in their matching BabyGap hoodies. My heart melted. And then I tried to teach them about the Ark of the Covenant. Epic fail.
I went out for Thai food with Nathan and Sam and friends (a fantastic married couple) from church. I really like peanut sauce. And mangoes. And fun people. So lunch was a super-success. (Using the taps in the restaurant's washroom was not a success. Apparently you need an engineering degree to wash your hands.)
We headed to Word on the Street, a book and magazine festival celebrating its 20th year. The books were not free. Nor were the magazines. But someone did give me a mini chocolate bar. While at the festival, I met up with a friend from college and a friend from university. Delightful. I like watching my worlds collide. As an added bonus, I also saw Polkaroo. And Margaret Atwood.
Post-books, we headed over to Kensington Market to buy tea. After much searching, we found my favorite tea place. It was closed. While disappointing, it prevented unjustifiable splurging. Had I brought my camera with me, I would have snapped a pic of the larger-than-life Scrabble game that took up the middle of the car-free street. But I didn't.
And after five-and-a-half hours on our feet, we called it a day. As we made our way to the subway, we ran into another friend and her boyfriend on Yonge Street. Because I know everyone who lives in Toronto.
So now I'm sitting at my desk, thankful for ice-cream trucks, old friends and new, frittata leftovers, and the promise of fast-approaching sleep.
Next weekend is Nuit Blanche. I don't know if I'll survive.