Today we slept in. It was great. There was a fog or low cloud or something that got heavier as the day progressed. The tops of the buildings were in clouds. Spooky.
We went out for lunch at Mercatto, in the Eaton Centre, before going to Ryerson University to watch a very long play, Six Characters In Search Of An Author. At lunch, and later this evening while eating dinner my drink mysteriously reduced in volume without me even drinking it. “Did you drink my drink!?” I asked Daniel, “The evaporation in this country is terrible!” he’d reply.
We did chest and biceps at the gym this afternoon. It was a good workout. They gym was busy too, but weird because there was no music on; everybody but me had iPhones and earplugs.
Tonight Dan roasted chicken breasts, a purple sweet potato that looked like beetroots and some carrots. He’d forgot to buy olive oil when we were grocery shopping on the way home, so I traipsed across Bloor St to Longo’s and took a while because I got distracted by cereal packets. As I ran across the street to come home I was hit in the chest by a rain drop. I was wearing a tank top, shorts and Birkenstocks. The tops of the buildings were immersed in fog and cars had their lights on already. The leaves on the trees are all yellow and orange. The plant boxes along Bloor have cabbages – cabbages!
We Skyped Alison this morning. She goes into RPH on Wednesday for her TAVR. She asked whether I thought she’d die or not. I hardly think they’d book a 90-year-old for a percutaneous aortic valve replacement if they thought the procedure would be lethal. Think of all the paperwork! I don’t think my reply offered much reassurance.