CCLXV: Sleepless in Vancouver

One bed for me, one bed for my (emotional) baggage

I had no idea where we were going to eat tonight. All I knew was that I didn't feel like making any decisions after a week that seems relentlessly resistant to end. We sauntered over to Guu on Thurlow; I hadn't been to that location for years. The Yaki Udon was what I longed for most and it did not disappoint.

I have two double beds to myself at the hotel and a balcony overlooking office buildings, a cathedral, and my normal bus stop. It's as if work, religion, and home are reminding me of my commitments to them. The fully lit windows of high-rises have become my stars and the steady sound of passing vehicles my soundtrack for the next two nights.

It's funny how being offered a piece of luxurious solitude can make one feel quite lonely. Being an only child, I am used to having lots of moments to myself and usually quite enjoy it. Maybe it's having two beds that prompts one to feel like something/one's missing. Or perhaps it is the feeling that hotel rooms are devoid of stimuli--the perfect place to curl up to read a book, but not the perfect circumstances. I'll have a 6:00am wakeup call tomorrow, and for once, being walking distance from my yoga studio has not bred a multitude of advantages. Instead, I'll have to content myself with what is (a socially incompatible schedule) rather than what could have been (a taste of living in the city). Story of ma vie.