Mr. Handsome is out to get me, of this I am sure

Well, I'm back from my hospital appointment in Toronto. The end, and good night.

Just kidding, guys. But I'm tired. Really tired. It's a long drive to Toronto, and I did that and back again in two days. That's a lot for a princess. Just sayin'.

The appointment went very well. I have no answers yet, but they took gobs and gobs of blood, did so many x-rays that I now glow, and told me they'll be in touch soon for step 2, which doesn't mean anything to me at the moment, but I'm sure it will at some point. Maybe.

Me. Glowing. And why does my nose look 10 times as large when glowing?

Getting to the hospital was the hardest part. Well, maybe not quite as hard as leaving, but almost. This is entirely due to the fact that Toronto is insane. Imagine a rat maze, and then fill it with cars and people. Then, add a few gajillion construction workers, barricades and one-way-only streets, as well as a stoplight at every corner, and you start getting a bit of an idea of what Toronto is like for drivers. And yes, I know I should have taken the subway or maybe even a horse, but that wasn't even an option because I am very stupid and subways scare me, and horses scare me even more because I've been tossed by a horse on more than one occasion, so it's obvious that horses hate me.

Of course I was late to my appointment, so like the good patient that I am, I called them and told them I was going to be a bit late, and then I kept edging my way through the stupid traffic and construction toward the hospital, continually swearing and shaking my fist and hoping the skies would open, swallow me up, and then spit me out at the hospital entrance.

But no, of course that didn't happen, because that would be all too simple.

No, instead I got to the hospital 20 minutes late, and by the time I found the rheumatology department, I was half an hour late. And the guy at reception gave me the evil eye when I told him I was late, and I so would have punched him in the throat more than once, but he was sort of in charge of the gateway, so I decided to smile and genuflect instead, in case he had a god complex, which I'm sure he did.

Three hours later, I was out of the hospital, an hour later than I had wanted, because the plan was to drive directly back home from there, but the plan also involved driving during daylight because I have night blindness, which makes it a tad difficult to drive in the dark. Hence, the word "blindness".

But no, of course that didn't happen, because remember, Toronto traffic sucks the big one. Not only was the inner city traffic awful, but once I got onto the highway, everyone and their mother were also there, so it was probably faster to walk than drive at that point, which I would have done had there been sidewalks.

Instead, I crawled along for an hour-and-a-half, breathing in the gas of a zillion cars, and slowly causing all the dormant cancer cells in my body to spring to life. I'm sure any day now I'm going to be diagnosed with lung tumours and airway cancer.

The drive was uneventful for the most part, unless you want to include the moment I couldn't find the brake and started panicking, because I was using cruise control, and then suddenly the car in front of me braked, and for some reason my brake pedal had totally disappeared. No lie. My foot suddenly went ballistic, searching left, right and centre for a pedal -- ANY PEDAL!!!! -- but alas, none could be found. Meanwhile, the car in front of me was getting frighteningly closer and closer. Finally, I found a pedal, but it turned out to be the clutch, which only managed to confuse me all the more because here I am pushing like there's no tomorrow on this damn pedal, and nothing's happening, and it almost feels like I'm going even faster than I was. And then, suddenly, as if my guardian angel woke up and noticed I was about to die, my foot found the brake, and I used it, and lived.

I'm thinking Mr. Handsome may have had something to do with that incident.

I got home at 9:26 p.m., which meant I actually did very good time and probably was very lucky not to get a speeding ticket or two. Thank you, Po Po Gods.

And now I've got to go cut my toenails, because they were bothering me all the way home, and now I can't stop thinking about them.