At the Airport
Everyone I’ve interacted with so far today – my taxi driver, the security guy at the luggage screening, the security guys who randomly selected me for the thing where they swab your luggage for chemical tests – has been super duper friendly. I feel like maybe they are trying to get me ready for Newfoundland where, I am lead to believe, everyone is super duper friendly.
My strata has decided to power wash and paint all the balconies in my building, which meant that I had to take everything off my balcony. So I currently have my BBQ and all my patio furniture in my living room and my herb garden in my bathtub, as it’s the only place the cats can’t get it (as my bathtub has a sliding door on it rather than a shower curtain). Watson really, really wants to eat my plants! I suppose the timing of this isn’t too bad, as by the time I get back it should be all done, as opposed to having to spend a week living with my BBQ, etc. in my living room ((The cats, on the other hand, are loving having all this crap in the living room. Probably because it smells like pigeon!)).
I already miss my cats!
If any criminals are reading this, I have a cat sitter, so don’t even think of breaking into my place while I’m away. My cat sitter is big and scary and could totally kick your butt.
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