This morning, I wake up with glorious purpose.
I work today, then tomorrow, then I’m off for a Wacky Winter weekend–the title given to the event on Facebook.
I’ll be spending some quality time with four of the women in my life I see the most frequently.
Lidz, where are you going?!
Thank you for asking.
We will be heading to a ski resort in attempts of enjoying all the spoils that a Canadian winter has to offer.
In case you’re wondering, none of us actually enjoy the winter.
None of us ski or snowboard either.
Some of us don’t like the cold.
Others are apathetic.
So then, why would we be doing this?
Because….no decent story started with “Let’s pursue this good idea!”
Nah, that’s not my style.
The road less travelled is often the more exciting one.
This kind of adventure is most appealing because it’s a completely different trip from my usual tropical birthday getaway.
I feel those kinds of memories would be challenging for me in what can only be described as a year of complete transition.
I feel very fortunate to have amazing people in my life who know exactly what I’m going through and are there to support me.
I’m sure we’ll have a fun time.
I’m also sure we’ll end up with some fun pictures.
Pictures or it didn’t happen.
I recall a picture I took the other day that warrants observation.
Last week, while switching trains, I realized I spilled some coffee on my jacket, so I used the restroom to try and wash it out.
It’s important to note that I rarely ever use the restroom on the train.
Until I started commuting, I never even realized there were restrooms on the train.
It’s also important to note I rarely even drink coffee while commuting.
A guy who sits beside me just asked very loudly;
“Does this bother you at all?” and pointed to his headphones.
I looked and him and mouthed “what?”
And he pointed to his headphones again.
Resisting the urge to ask him a couple more times, I said “no.”
I’m more annoyed by his cologne than anything.
I also notice a typo on his PowerPoint and point it out to him.
Why? Because in spite of being 90% evil, there’s 10% good inside.
“Preferred” should never have 4 r’s, even if you’re trying to illustrate emphasis.
Back to my story, I open the train’s restroom door and marvel at how big it is.
It’s almost bigger than my office!
I make progress washing out the coffee stain and head out to meet my commuting friends.
I’m about to leave when I notice this:
It’s been a while since I put on my proverbial Horatio sunglasses and attempted to solve a non-existent commuting mystery.
Hands on hips, staring at the evidence, the puns are plentiful.
What a sight for sore eyes!
Eye wonder who did this?
Maybe this person needed to lash out on society.
I see this could be a problem.
Why are someone’s eyelashes in the washroom on the train?!!?
Ok, so that last one isn’t a pun, but it does merit discussion.
I spend the next little while wondering how these little eyelashes ended up on an Eastbound train from Oakville.
Were these remnants of a great night or a horrible one?
How drunk do you have to be to decide you no longer need eyelashes?
Did they fall off naturally, or was it a crime of passion?
I consider posting a found ad on Kijiji, just to see what kind of response I would get.
Then inspiration strikes.
I consider collecting these for my upcoming wacky winter weekend.
I could pretend I bought new eyelashes at a salon.
Once everyone felt how soft they were, and smelled them because I bought the lavender vanilla kind, I’d let everyone know I found them beside a toilet on the Go Train.
I mull over my chances of survival.
Five of us would get to the resort, four would come back.
Rather than tamper with evidence, I think better of it and leave the lashes where they were.
I’m confident with my decision.
I watch enough tv to know that killers always return to the scene of the crime.
Could I be any cornea?