It’s the lit­tle things in life

South Shore Breaker - - Wheels - Les­[email protected]

It’s the lit­tle things that tend to drive us to dis­trac­tion. All of us usu­ally rise to the oc­ca­sion if some­thing big hap­pens, but it’s the lit­tle soul-suck­ing mo­ments that eat away at you. And af­ter enough of them, you can usu­ally be found whim­per­ing un­der the cov­ers with wine, choco­late, lot­tery scratch tick­ets, Net­flix and caramel corn.

I went on a trip to Toronto as part of my book tour. Like a fool, I bought new boots for the oc­ca­sion

Never wear new boots when you have to walk on city streets, es­pe­cially cob­bled city streets.

Never wear new boots when there are old boots in your ho­tel closet.

Never wear new boots when you have to walk for miles to get to an air­port gate.

Never wear new boots, be­cause for some rea­son they make the alarm bells go off in se­cu­rity and you have to take them off and dis­cover you have a hole in your sock in front of 30 other trav­ellers.

Then you have to put them back on and they’re stiff and it’s not easy to put them back on and you hold up ev­ery­one in line while you strug­gle with them.

Never wear a thick sweater when you have to get up on stage and read to a room­ful of peo­ple, es­pe­cially when there is a spot­light.

Those ba­bies are hot, which cre­ates damp­ness on your face and fogs up your glasses.

Have you ever tried to read through foggy glasses?

Have you ever tried to wipe foggy glasses hop­ing no one will no­tice? It’s not pretty.

You just want to slink away and find a wad of Kleenex.

Now I know why my mother al­ways had tis­sues up her sleeve or down the front of her bra. It comes in handy.

Never get in a ho­tel el­e­va­tor while dis­tracted and look­ing at your phone. I turned around, pressed the but­ton and sud­denly there were men run­ning to­ward me in gym shorts.

I screamed.

Luck­ily, I was alone.

It took a mo­ment to re­al­ize it was a mu­ral plas­tered on the in­side el­e­va­tor doors ad­ver­tis­ing the ho­tel gym on the fifth floor.

Who thought it was a good idea to have a pic­ture of life-sized men chas­ing you in a con­fined space?

It’s spooky enough to be a mid­dle-aged woman alone in the big city with­out this sort of non­sense. My blood pres­sure went through the roof.

Never be­lieve your board­ing pass.

Never sit at an empty air­port gate for an hour and ca­su­ally won­der where all the peo­ple are. If some­thing doesn’t feel right, it’s usu­ally not right.

Never be in the wash­room sur­rounded by your lug­gage when a me­chan­i­cal voice an­nounces last call for your flight at a dif­fer­ent gate. It’s hard to jump up in boots that pinch your feet, gather three carry-on bags in a jum­ble and try to get out of the stall with­out toi­let pa­per trail­ing af­ter you.

It’s also a good idea to never try raw oys­ters for the first time when some­one is tak­ing a video, un­be­knownst to you. The look on my face was not at­trac­tive. And then I had to chew. The things you do in the big city.

But you know the say­ing: what hap­pens in Toronto stays in Toronto.

And I know it’s im­pos­si­ble, but try not to get on a plane with a cou­ple seated be­hind you, who sneeze and cough for two hours straight.

Nat­u­rally, be­tween them, the germy air vent blow­ing on me and now the CBC Mar­ket­place re­port telling me of filthy air­line head­rests, food trays and front-pocket petri dish dis­as­ters, I am, un­der­stand­ably, in the mid­dle of a mis­er­able head cold and cough­ing saga.

But it’s also the lit­tle things that make you feel much bet­ter, like hot wa­ter, le­mon and honey, flan­nel py­ja­mas, your own bed and pil­low, a purring cat and comfy quilt. And not hav­ing to go out­side in your stupid new boots.

LES­LEY CREWE

ARE YOU KID­DING ME?

Newspapers in English

Newspapers from Canada

© PressReader. All rights reserved.