Ah, there are so many pictures I COULD post, but sincere and calm reflection leads me away from that.
I don’t want to go to Toronto. I want to BE THERE. But I don’t want to travel there. Travelling on passes at Christmas is excruciating. Not having a real bed to sleep on when I get there is unpleasant to contemplate. Not having a vehicle is not really a problem, but the weather might be. The fact that Katie doesn’t want to go doesn’t help. And she has more than one good reason not to want to go, including ones that I can’t post here.
The fact that family vacations turn into an extended mix of the world’s ugliest domestic argument might have something to do with it. The fact that Paul, normally the soberest of men when it comes to expenditures, goes completely berserk during vacations (whether or not he buys shoes) might have something to do with it. The fact that I just don’t want to have to be completely emotionally dishonest for an entire berloody week might have something to do with it. (Don’t forget to keep that smile on your face). (That’s why I quit church…. why do I want to re-up in a different location?) The fact that I HATE FLYING has a lot to do with it. I’ve tried, since that little ol’ plane crash back in 1988, to overcome my complete panic stricken loathing of aircraft in all forms. I have even succeeded to the point that I don’t need happy pills or alcohol to get on a plane. But that means I like it? NOOOOOO! You’re in a pressurized flying bomb full of diseases and devoid of adequate space or nourishing food. The fact that it’s maintained by honest and intelligent people means squat to me. Is it rational? Compared to driving a car, or god forbid, riding a bicycle in this burg? NOOOOOO! Pay a shorter visit? I have a better idea. I’m going to stay home. I don’t want to go anywhere. I don’t want any demands made on me. I don’t see anybody lining up for the privilege of spoiling me, so I’m going to do it myself.