Perfect long weekend: Monday

The day starts slowly; I think I'm the first in the whole city to wake. The backdoor is propped open letting in the early morning sun. My neighbour waters his newly landscaped backyard, gardenhose in one hand, lit cigarette in the other. His mug of coffee steams on a new glass table. I've proofread a chapter from a colleague's dissertation and earned 50 bucks before my lover's even stirred. I picture her now in her bedroom, rolling over into her sinful dark curls and petting her kitties who have likely been poking at her for a while.

The long walk I will take will start at the re-vamped Tod Morden Mills and meander beside the river all the way down the Lower Don Trail. I'll want to follow it to Cherry Beach then through the cruisin' badlands of the Eastern Port to Ashbridges Bay and then the Beaches boardwalk. But it'll be blocked for construction before Lakeshore and so I'll have to climb the Queen Street Stairs past the snotty girlfirends who are making their sweaty boyfirends carry their bikes all the way up from the valley to street level. I love walking. And today, because of my quick pace but frequent stops for photographs I'll end up doing a strange long-distance leapfrog with a chinese guy until he exits the path at Gerrard Street.

The power will be off when I arrive home though there's been no heavy winds or other signs of a summer storm. I'll be reminded of the Blackout of '03 and become nervous about widespread societal breakdown. I'll curse all AC-hogs. The power will come back on within an hour but I'll pretend it doesn't and get high and think about how brittle my body feels. I'll reflect on the bitchin fitness routine that has my body showing me where it's weak and misaligned and I'll truly realize what a tailspin I'm coming out of: two years of high-level academic performance while coping with displacements, loneliness, steep weightlosses, a lover's bipolar diagnosis, and daily prayers that my tenants will please please check the lint trap and not burn my house down in my absence. But the spin's almost spun and I can feel myself slide into my situation, relaxing into my funky place, cruising into my work. Getting ready 'cause these are going to be some hot years.

I'll have a shower then make a savoury tofu scramble that I'll eat from a bowl with red chopsticks and gaze out at my crazy front garden while the sun sets.