My 49th birthday was earlier this week. No big celebrations; we were still recovering from the cold we both caught at the tail end of our India trip. I skipped some work things earlier in the week, and yesterday was the first day I even started to feel normal.

Today was nicer. I went for a walk, bought a book at Queen Books, bought us lunch and a Deep ‘n Nostalgic chocolate cake from hot new bakery Alice Marie, picked up some meat at Butchers of Distinction, and bought some mini doughnuts at COPS. I watched some Olympics. I snuggled with Pluto, who we’re cat-sitting for a week. There might be some Pandemic later. There will definitely be wine.

It’s taken some time to recover from this one, but sometime yesterday I became desperate to plan more trips. Not that there’s a single red penny left in the vacation fund, but that hasn’t stopped me. I want mountains. I want an AirBnB with a pool. I want a cool city with parks and wine bars. I want Nova Scotia at a time that isn’t Christmas. I want wineries. I want a language gap.

I just want something.