After a lot of highway driving and a bunch of toiling around one-way Montreal streets and a very great deal of stair-climbing, we have extracted Lindsay from Montreal. Or, rather, her stuff — she’s effectively lived here in Toronto for a year. But she no longer has a place there.
We managed to squeeze in a trip to the best (beer) dep in Montreal and a burger with her friend Naakita and some quality time with Roscoe. We also managed to squeeze our minivan rental into an AirBnB back alley parking spot before quitting the city deadly-early the next morning. Expert squeezing all around, really.
So: welcome to Toronto, Lindsay’s-clothes-and-desk-but-really-mostly-books. I’m sorry in advance for our new premier.