The morning began with plans to longboard to some breakfast benny at Starving Artist for the first time this season, but opening my blinds to some falling snow led to a minor temper tantrum and an alternate plan. I literally cursed myself for my stubborn insistence on biking there, spitting out the persistent snowflakes along the way. But I made it:
Though the waffle-based brunch was delicious, and we were sort of delightfully over-caffeinated, our mood matched the weather for even longer, and then we were surprised by that infamous, bright yellow beacon on the windshield. A sign that, on almost every other similar location in the city says no parking between 12:01AM and 7:00AM, in THIS particular instance had a sticker over the second time to say ‘PM.’ How is one to notice such a thing before consuming coffee??
A message from another lovely lady led to a conversation about how the weather was making her miserable. I wanted to know if that misery wanted company. She insisted that we were only allowed to visit if we, too, were planning on being pouty and upset. We agreed.
Tea, cat cuddles, twisty stretches, book exchanges and salad consumption improved our moods slightly and we parted ways in the sun that was desperately struggling to get out from behind the persistent clouds.
I biked home.
Furrowed brow still fully formed, I decided that Saturday would be the day that I would start a running regime again. I took to the alleys of my neighbourhood, which never fail to provide me with a new perspective, and some opportunity for optimism: