I got back from Toronto on Saturday night, and have pretty much been walking around like a zombie ever since, giving people blank stares and mumbling something about being tired every five minutes instead of attempting real conversation. I feel like I've been gone for weeks and weeks, but it was only three days and I'm a wuss, I guess.
I got up at 3:30am Thursday morning. My flight was leaving in a couple hours and I had an interview scheduled for 12am in Toronto with The Zolas and I wasn't ready for it at all. I wasn't packed, either, because I'm the worst and because the entire week prior was a gong show. Then I almost missed my flight and spent the first hour of it hyperventilating out of relief next to a guy who was sleeping with his mouth wide open.
But somehow I made it to the YYZ airport (interview questions scrawled out in a little black notebook), met up with the Rage team, hopped into a limo, grabbed a sandwich, did the interview, and spent the rest of the afternoon running around a very damp and chilly downtown Toronto taking care of picking up media passes and coffees. Good, strong, coffees. (And getting a tiny bit lost, too. Because that's to be expected of me.) We finished off with a quick Said the Whale interview and I happily collapsed on a subway train which took me to my sister-in-law's house where I snuggled some nieces and ate noodles. I was so thankful for those noodles; you have no idea.
I headed back to the subway around 7:45pm to go out for an evening/night/early morning of music, making a few strange--yet entertaining--friends along the way. At the end of the night, I took a taxi back to Lydia's, happily didn't get killed, collapsed into bed, and received a wake-up call (from a very cute, very excited little niece) at 5:30am Sask time.
Friday was pretty similar to Thursday, aside from the whole flying across the country thing. We had a meeting over brekkie at Cora (I LOVE CORA), some interview prep, three interviews, gelato in and a quick walk through Little Italy, and back to Lydia's for supper before heading out for more music. (Google maps majorly failed me here, and had me wandering around the fashion district all by myself in the dark for about an hour. I was a little mad about it but it was fun at the same time and I'm still alive and pretty happy about not getting mugged.)
The night was long but good and the music was fantastic and the company was great. I collapsed into bed that night at some point in the early morning and no sooner had my eyes shut but they were open again and it was day. But a wonderful, lazy, chill with lovely relatives and walk around shopping and get coffees and eat a lot kind of day. I spent the afternoon walking up and down Yonge street with Lydia and having my toenails painted by my niece and it was pretty perfect. I flew home around suppertime, gained a few hours with the time change and spent them on the couch telling Barclay all about the strange people on the subway and the hour I spent lost in the fashion district and all the new bands I'd found to love and how big and hilarious his nieces have gotten.
And now I'm sitting at my kitchen table, eating dry cereal and guzzling coffee and preparing to type up a million show reviews and interviews and edit some videos. I'll see you in a thousand years or so.