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This is what it could look like when one completely deconstructs a life as one knows it, and how to build from the ground up. Alternatively, this is a fresh look at an old story. The fine art of falling apart.

I still hate New Years

Happy New Year

Rose and I, ringing in the New Year at some club opening in London, Ontario.
Truth be told, I'm still exhausted. I think it's a combo between running around all over the place at a constant pace for the past 3 weeks, and my mood.

I still hate New Years, but didn't kick anyone, or get into a drunken brawl at the bar. I did however, buy pants that were too long (which necessitated a lot of hoiking up during the night) and awesomely high black patent heels and pink silk stockings. I wore a fancy bar under a satin jacket and it all pulled together nicely enough, I suppose. Nothing to remark about the night in general except that I ended up walking back to my fancy hotel in my bare feet because the snow was on a mission to make me slip and fall. At my age, a hip breakage could be bad news *grin*

Oh, and people did take photos of my breasts all evening and tell me I was pretty. Weird.

I'm at Rose's now, typing out this entry, about to have dinner and then an early bed time with Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind to lull me to sleep. I just need this. Time to slip underwater and come up for air tomorrow morning. A couple of days left in London, then back to my mother's neck of the woods before finally flying back to Nunavut on thursday.

Mixed emotions about the vacation, although I am glad I came for it. I've managed to grab a few things that will be very useful for me Up North, and I have had a lot of time to spend with family. In fact, one more day to go.

And of course, with all that has been going on, I have this urgent need to figuratively wrap cotton around my ears and eyes so I can block out for awhile. But...that will have to wait, unless I manage it tonight.

ok, I'm out.

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