I think it just hit me

that locals will expect me to be, well, local. I'm on my way back to TO, and I had a set-to with the shuttle woman. The phone woman told me 6:15, and she came at 6:00 and was grumpy about it, then she didn't take credit cards, or an out of province cheque. All of my stress over the last couple of moving/not sleeping days bubbled out.

Yesterday was hard. Receiving furniture, trying to unpack as much as possible, F delivering my kayak and other stuff, such tension and sadness between us, not knowing how to say anything that wouldn't just lead to mis-steps. Work, travels, family and a strangled goodbye. Then D&F visiting, warmth and casual presence. Then more unpacking, and calling F to try to have the conversation I'd hoped for. And being able to have it, shifting the sadness from wound to the seaweed at the edge of the tidezone, liminal and forlorn.

Before bed, finishing unpacking the kitchen, hanging one picture in the bedroom, trying to do another above the fireplace, but realizing it was really time to stop when I hit concrete with my drill and was just making a mess. Staggered into bed.

Today, stressed, time-zoned, no energy for going back to TO and all of its work gabble. Need a day of sleep. Tuesday?

Planes. A path that will become familiar, I think. I don't even know yet if I am supposed to transfer my car reg to BC, but if so, I think I'll get a vanity plate. YVR*YYZ. And a local chequing account.